Lover's Last Stand
by rocklynn
Summary: Tragedy and politics take over the Hill. Bates gets rejected by her date, only to find some unlikely company. Hill and Renko apprehend a man accused of violating a restraining order. Furillo questions his sobriety.
1. Chapter 1

Lover's Last Stand

Arriving back to her apartment, Sgt. Lucy Bates in a shiny blue dress says with a hint of sarcasm, "That was some night." She opens the door to a darkened apartment. "I can't believe that happened. Then again, I can. My track record with men…" She holds her jacket, looking at him. "Never mind. I'm boring you." She turns on the light.

He says nothing.

Lucy says with a smirk. "Okay. Thanks…for everything. You were right. The guy was a creep."

Without thinking, she takes his arm and gives him a kiss.

He stares at her in disbelief.

It takes her a moment to realize what she's just done and to who. She says, "You need to do that again."

They kiss again. This time a little longer. She tosses her jacket on the couch. He looks over quickly. Lucy turns his head to face hers and kisses him again. She untucks his shirt.

Later on, Lucy and her companion are in bed together. She looks down at her nearly breathless lover. He pants uncontrollably, giving an audible gasp. She draws her hands over his chest, then goes for a lengthy kiss. Quickly, he grabs her wrists and rolls them both over for a reversal of position. He takes her face into his hands and kisses her.

_6:45 AM._

"Item number nine:…" Lt. Henry Goldblume says aloud.

Officers and detectives alike chatter among themselves. The lieutenant speaks up louder, "Okay, item number nine!"

A hush comes over the officers as he continues to announce.

"Okay. We've had a rash of bank robberies in all areas of the city. Division is asking of us to be on the look-out. No heroics."

A younger officer raises his hand.

"Yes, Beyer?"

"Does that mean we don't get any reward money?"

"It means you get your daily paycheck, like the rest of us." Goldblume continues to talk to everybody else. "Like I said, boys and girls. No heroics. If you see anything that looks like it might be a bank robbery? Call it in. These people are armed and dangerous. They've killed three guards and two are on life support."

Officers, Bobby Hill and Andy Renko shake their heads disapprovingly. Renko says to his partner, "Yeah. Tell it to the rookies. You know they're gonna jockey for a citation."

"Easy, cowboy." Hill says quietly. "Don't give them any ideas."

Goldblume says, "Item number ten: "We're on day five of the new computer systems."

Collective groans fill the room.

"I know. I know. But, this is new technology and the chief has insisted we start using this. Our precinct was nearly gutted by a fire two years ago and some of those files couldn't be saved. So, we have to be a little more careful and put all these cases into a compact area. If you don't have any assignments, then please see me and I'll give you a case load to do."

Renko puts his head on the desk and groans. Hill puts a hand on his back.

"Item number eleven: We'd like to introduce some new transferees from Michigan Ave. Ryan Gelman. Denver Johnson. Lou Jolevitch. Bryce Kincaid. Welcome fellas."

Hill and Renko look behind them. Renko takes particular notice at how rowdy the four guys seem. "Don't look now, Bobby, but I think we got high schoolers on our team. Any younger and they'd be doing Jell-O shots. Boy, I'll tell you if there were a time I miss Neal and J.D. behind us, it's now.

The four younger officers deliver fake punches to each other. Johnson chews gum. Kincaid breaks into a naughty chuckle.

Renko looks ahead in distress, as though he has digestive problems.

Goldblume announces, "Last item: You should all know that Sgt. Lucille Bates…"

"WROWROOOOOOOO!" Laughter and cackling stops the lieutenant from talking. He looks over.

Sgt. Det. Mick Belker slowly turns his head and furrows his brows. Hill looks ahead with an annoyed smirk. Corporal Officer, Jock Buchanan angles to see who made the outburst.

Goldblume steps around in back of Hill and Renko. He leers at the new transfers. "Got anything to share, Johnson?"

"No." Johnson leans back.

"Swallow your gum, son."

Johnson gulps back, feeling the candy drop down his throat.

"In the meantime, I want you to remember that in this precinct, we respect all officers. That goes for age, gender, and rank. We don't use juvenile outbursts to voice our opinions. This is not high school. Do I make myself clear?"

"Yes, sir."

Goldblume walks back to the podium. "As I was saying, Sgt. Lucille Bates will be here a little later on, as she has a couple of hours off. She will be back to do roll call tomorrow." He looks around. "Okay. You're all dismissed."

The officers get up, finishing their breakfast. Chairs get pushed in and chattering starts.

Goldblume shouts out, "Hey!"

Everybody stops what they're doing.

"Remember. Let's be careful out there." He points a wary finger.

The officers start to gather at the stairwell, waiting to take their turn to go up. Johnson and Kincaid make remarks. Renko feels a tap on his shoulder.

"Hey, Renko, heard that your partner calls you a particular name. "Cowboy?" Johnson says in disbelief. He smiles back. "Should be doughboy."

Renko reels around and slams Johnson against the wall, making him nearly lose his footing on a single step. "You listen to me, and you listen to me good, boy!"

Hill tries to hold back his partner. "Renko!"

The infuriated Renko blows up at the young officer, pointing a finger at him. "You heard what the lieutenant said. You respect all others. I don't know what Michigan Ave. taught you, but over here your conduct isn't appreciated!"

Lucy puts one foot on the edge of the bed to tie her shoes. She lets out a yawn, then straightens herself out. She glances down at her sleeping companion. "Come on, sleepy head. Time to get up. I know. I know. It ain't like the way it used to be."

Slightly he moves. "Mmph," he manages to let out before his face hits the pillow again.

Lucy looks in the bedroom mirror, making sure she's presentable for the day.

"You have the luxury of going in at ten o'clock. Lucky you. I don't even have time to take a shower. I have to get my car from the garage, which should be ready by now. Then I gotta go and pick up Fabian from his friend's house and bring him to school. Then I go to work late… And let me remind you that's only because I asked for a couple of hours off." She picks up an item from the floor with a smirk. "Here's your pants."

He doesn't budge.

"Hey, I'm gonna leave you this key 'cause I trust you. You can let yourself out and lock the door. Give it to me when you see me next time." Lucy looks back at him with a more serious expression on her face, as if something strikes her differently.

"Bye."


	2. Chapter 2

Inside his office, Capt. Frank Furillo looks through a desk drawer for a stapler. An item drops to the floor which somehow got snagged underneath. He picks it up to see it's an identification tag that bares the name _Det. John D. LaRue_.Smiling, he stares at the blue seal accompanying the name. It only seemed like yesterday that laminated lanyard badge was worn. Two years had gone by and he still couldn't let J.D. know that things weren't the same without him. Sure, he would see him every once in a while, but that was to pick up files on past troubled officers Counseling other cops seemed to suit him best. Chasing down bad guys and other occupational hazards had lost their allurement to the former detective. Even his former partner, Neal Washington whom had been promoted to sergeant had his fill of crazy runs. A bad knee had already forced him to perform lighter duty assignments, and having a new partner didn't appeal to him in the least. He was forty-five and LaRue was forty-three.

Sgt. Det. Neal Washington knocks on the opened door, alerting the captain of his presence.

"Frank?"

Furillo drops the badge back in the drawer. "Yes, Neal?"

"Henry wants to know what we're gonna do about those cases we got backed up."

"Uh, put Hill and Renko on one of the new computer systems."

"Not good, man. Belker's havin' a tough time with it already." Washington answers, chewing on a toothpick.

"See what they can do. A lot of the department has been complaining about not enough to do lately. Most of the rookies are out on assignment to get their feet wet."

"That reminds me. We've been getting complaints about some of the new guys."

"Rookies?"

"Transfers."

"Already? We just got them today."

"Apparently, they were causin' trouble at roll call."

"Okay. Keep me posted on them."

Sgt. Det. Mick Belker walks straight into Furillo's office with Washington still present.

"Captain, about those new transfers."

"Which ones Mick?"

"Johnson, Kincaid, Gelman, and Jolevitch."

Furillo's eyes turn to Washington. Then he asks, "What about them, Mick?"

"I don't like them. I think they're trouble. They were very disrespectful during roll call today. You should have heard the things they said about Sgt. Bates, throughout the morning. Then Johnson picked a fight with Renko out on the stairs. I've got a bad feeling about these guys. They think they can do whatever they want at their age. They scare me even! Captain, we're not talking about pranks. They're not nice. I don't know how our department got them, but I for one don't like it or them."

"So duly noted, Mick. Going back to the computer?"

"I don't like that machine and it doesn't like me either."

"It's an expensive piece of equipment."

"It's an expensive piece of junk, Captain. Why can't we just go back to the way we've always done things?"

"Chief Daniels doesn't want us losing anymore files. It's cost effective on typewriting ribbon and paper."

"Fine." Belker retreats from the office and goes to the computer. He presses a button to turn it on. It greets him with the words, "HELLO" in bright green letters. "Well, hello yourself." He starts to smile. "Maybe we can be friends."

Renko steps in back of him, "Mick? Don't forget about asking Robin about Philip's playdate with Laura Ann."

"I won't. Now, let me get back to work."

"And, I don't wanna hear anything about Philip biting my little sweet cheeks."

Belker squints defiantly at the officer. "Are you accusing my son of biting your daughter? If so, I'll need to see proof of the evidence."

"There is no evidence, Mick. How do I know you're not groomin' him to do so."

"Andy, I think you've got that wrong. It's Philip who has to worry about Laura Ann. She's a year older and twice his size."

Renko puffs out his chest. "Are you suggesting my child is fat?"

"No, Andy. I'm saying she's bigger than my son. He's just a little guy."

"No doubt he gets that from his father." Renko retorts.

"Same goes for your daughter." Belker answers in sincerity.

Renko huffily walks away.

Sgt. Lucille Bates walks through, fully attired in her blue uniform. She picks through papers on a desk.

"This is a huge mess." She grumbles, tossing a pile down.

Goldblume walks by her.

"Lucy, ask and ye shall receive."

Wearily she answers, "Not that computer again. Henry, if you like it so much then why don't you do it? I've got other things to do."

"That's the price you pay taking time off."

She rolls her eyes and flails in exasperation. "I took two stinkin' hours off!" Finding a box nearby, she tosses the pile in.

At the same time, former detective, John D. LaRue appears at the main office desk. Several officers go up to greet him. Lucy turns her head in curiosity.

Renko gives a big smile. "J.D., ol' buddy. Ain't you a sight for sore eyes!"

LaRue lights up, "Hey, Andy!"

"So, how's Division treating you these days?"

"Can't complain. Higher pay. New car."

"I'll just bet the ladies can't get enough of you now."

"Uh, yeah." LaRue says in reluctant agreement." He changes the subject. "Doesn't look like much of a difference."

"Oh, we got some new computer system the chief wants us to use for filing reports. Ever since the fire, he's been up in arms over it. Yeah. Mick's workin' on that now."

Hill starts to call out to his partner. "Hey, Renk…" Then he sees LaRue. "Hey, and what say you, lovah?"

"A-okay, Bobby."

"You back here permanently?" Hill asks in anticipation.

"Just visitin'. Got a case file to pick up from the captain."

"I gotta tell you, J.D., things have not been the same since you left."

LaRue nods his head in agreement. Then he sees Lucy carrying the box. He stops her. "Hey, Lucy. Gotta give you something."

"Oh?" She answers in curiosity.

As he walks through, Lt. Howard Hunter of the Emergency Action Team sucks on his pipe. He glances over at the two's exchange. Slowly he removes the pipe from his mouth.

Bates says awkwardly to the ex-detective, "Can I talk to you for a few minutes?"

"Sure."

"In the interrogation room."

They walk off with Lt. Hunter watching until they disappear into Interrogation Room 'B.' He goes over to Renko. "Uh, Andy? Have you noticed anything different about Lucille Bates lately?"

"Lucy? She was flyin' high yesterday over an insurance adjuster she's been workin' with to get a plan for her and Fabian. Clark Henderson, I do believe."

Lt. Hunter looks over at the hallway. "I don't think it's an insurance adjuster, Renko. More like, keeping in her field. Close."

"A cop, Lieutenant? Here?"

"Just a hunch, Andy." Hunter answers in a deliberate fashion, then walks away.

Bates and LaRue reappear ten minutes later, parting directions. Renko feels the need to follow the sergeant. "Sweet Lucy, how did your date go with _Clark_? 'cause I know you were flyin' higher than a kite yesterday."

Bates sucks in her teeth and answers, "It went fine, Renko."

Hill goes to join his partner. "Oh, yeah, Lucy. How was Mr. Big Time Insurance Man? Last I remember, you were all pink over him."

"Like I told Andy. It went fine."

"That's good." Hill says while walking away.

Renko continues to her, "You seem different today. From the time you left the station last night to the time you came in. You were all hopped up on this guy. Said you were gonna get a new dress for the occasion. Now, you're all, I don't know…_evasive_." He says with concern in his eyes.

LaRue watches from a little distance away.

"Andy, it was good. Okay?" Bates answers.

Renko stares her in the eyes. "My God. The Lieutenant was right. You weren't with Clark, were you?"

Slightly annoyed she answers back, "Andy, you're reading too much into this."

"Am I? I'm inclined to believe Howard…"

"Howard?" Bates blubbers back. "I think he's been breathing in too much gun powder. In the meantime, how's your sex life with Daryl Ann?"

Renko reacts, but not insulted as she had hoped. He's more intrigued by her response. "My, my. Aren't you defensive."

Lt. Hunter surprises LaRue by putting a hand on his shoulder. "John, did I ever tell you about what happened to me in Vietnam?"

"Uh-uh."

"We had this Vietnamese scout, Minh Pham. He brought us around the jungles. Taught us survival…" He grins back. "…and how to find women. Judas, man! These were magnificent creatures! All smiles. Ebony black hair. Perfect almond eyes. Petite figures. These girls would throw themselves at the soldiers. I'll tell you, some of the men would get really lonely on the battlefield. Minh had his younger sister with him, Xaun Pham. She would run errands for us around the main base. Nobody thought much of her. All the other girls got the lonely soldiers, and then they would all move on to the next."

J.D. sucks in his teeth, waiting for the rest of the lieutenant's story. Not wanting to show boredom he humors him by feigning interest.

"Anyway, when it was time to leave, and we all had our fill of war and women. I went back to the landing pad still feeling lonely. No accomplishment had been made. Got my heart broken by a few of those Vietnamese fillies. Then, I saw her. Xaun. My, she was glowing like an angel. She was a gorgeous piece of Asian art. I was with her when her cousin was killed. I saw her joys and her sorrows throughout my time in that no man's land."

J.D. nods back, slightly more interested.

"The point is, she was under my nose all that time and I didn't know it until it was too late. I never did anything about it and I still think of her from time to time."

Lt. Hunter puts the pipe back in his mouth and gives J.D. a pat on the shoulder before walking away. J.D. looks down and exhales deeply.

Belker sits at the computer. Constantly typing, he soon runs into a problem. The screen goes blank. He sits up in rage. "What? I just loaded two pages worth of writing!" His eyes go wide and he gives a growl.

A voice comes from in back of him. "Uh, Belker, maybe if you don't breathe on it."

Belker's brows furrow in disdain. Then he lights up. Turning around, he smiles, "J.D.!"

LaRue smiles back. "See you got a computer now. Division's got one. A lot friendlier."

"How are you supposed to operate this thing?" Belker asks.

"I wouldn't know. Hey, I talk to people, not machines."

"I hate this thing."

"No undercover or stakeouts?"

"It's been quiet lately. Barely any gang activity since last June and what happened to Jesus Martinez."

"Why? What happened to Jesus Martinez?"

"You didn't hear?"

"No."

"He was trying a case in night court. His client didn't like that he couldn't get him off. Got a hold of the bailiff's gun on the way out and shot him cold. Close range."

"Man…" LaRue nods back. "Reformed from street thug and…that."

"Hardly any gang member has been seen from the factions since then. Jesus was a big part of their community. He may have been the leader of the El Diablos but he was also the king of the streets to all others. He was movin' up in the world too. Ironic, isn't it? You'd think a guy like him would meet his fate on the street. Instead, it's in a courthouse."

"Yeah." LaRue blows out a breath.

"Anyway, Howard calls it urban renewal."

Former Lt. and ousted captain of Polk Ave., Ray Calletano drops by the precinct. Many officers rush over to greet him. "Hello, everybody!" He announces in his heavy Colombian accent.

Bates is the first to react.

"Hey, look it's Capta… Lieutenant…"

"It's okay, Lucy. I prefer my old recognized rank of Lieutenant. No Captain. Please. That was a wash-out. Just call me Ray instead."

Lt. Hunter pops out and gives Calletano a hug. "Mi Amigo! How are you?"

Calletano gives a huge smile. "I'm doing great, Howard."

"That's great to hear, Ray. What brings you down here?"

"Oh, I have news. _Wonderful_ news!" Calletano bubbles over with pride.

At his office, Furillo talks over some orders of the day with Washington.

"I don't know what's going to happen to those treaties. The streets have been quiet. No known gang activity. Dudley Hicks was seen working with kids at the 'Y.'"

Washington raises his brows as he chews on his toothpick. "There's an improvement."

"My main concern is the rash of rob…" Furillo gets interrupted by a knock at the open door. He turns to see it's LaRue.

Washington reacts quickly. "J.D.!"

LaRue does the same. "Hey, Neal!"

They give each other a big hug.

"What's been goin' on, babe?" Washington asks.

"Oh, you know. Just here to start trouble."

Furillo slowly smiles. "Hello, J.D."

"Captain." LaRue says in respect.

"Listen, Frank? I'll be back in a few minutes. Gotta go get somethin' for Belker." Washington puts a hand on his former partner's arm. "Hey, I'll be right back and leave you two alone to talk about the old times. I have to talk with you anyway." He then disappears.

LaRue looks behind him and says indirectly to the captain, "First name basis?"

"Yes, J.D. It's been two years. Don't you think it's about time you do too?"

"Uh…" LaRue is at a loss for words.

"So, what brings you down here?"

"I came here to pick up a file on Monroe. I'm trying to figure out what's made this guy go off the rails since you said he was a good cop. I'm finding some...things."

"And you're looking for?"

"Records for heroic deeds. Citations…"

"Are you saying citations are no good?"

LaRue hesitantly says, "You know. Ego. Superhero complex. Change of attitude. Personal…problems."

"Is this from experience?" Furillo asks out of curiosity.

LaRue smiles back, quick to point out, "I'm just saying you have to look at every part of a cop's psyche."

"Okay. You know more about this than me." Furillo says, glancing at the drawer to his desk. He pulls it open. "Has Johnson told you how long you'll be staying with Division?"

"No."

"I found something just this morning I forgot I had. Thought you might like it back…if you were ever interested."

He hands LaRue the badge.

LaRue smiles back, holding the clip with his fingers. "Hey! You've still got this old thing?"

"It's not that old, J.D. Two years only." Furillo says in hopefulness.

LaRue looks at it before handing it back to the captain. "You can keep it." He lifts the visitor badge from his jacket pocket. "I'm pretty content with this one. Well, you can keep it or just toss it. I don't need it anymore."

"I guess I was just having it hang around and thought maybe... It hasn't been the same around here without you, J.D."

LaRue looks down in remorse. He nods back. "Captain, you really saved me. You never turned your back on me when you had every opportunity. You just kept on after me until I saw straight. I was determined to be what I once was. How I started my career in the first place. I can never forget that and I'm forever grateful.

But, I can't. Too many things have happened to me to go back to my old ways. Not to say that chasing bad guys and saving some people wasn't rewarding. Just that, I get to make a more rewarding rescue by helping people like myself before they get to the point of no return…which I was near. More than once. I hurt a lot of people. Alienated many of my colleagues. Hurt myself in the process. I'm not proud of my past behavior at all. But, if someone could learn… If I could learn from my own mistakes then maybe they don't have to be like me."

A disappointed Capt. Furillo nods back still with hope. "You're always welcome, just to let you know. And, J.D.? You'll never be turned away if something is on your mind. I'm just a phone call away."

"Thanks…Captain." LaRue smiles back.

Washington pops his head back in the office. Furillo raises his brows. "I'll let you two talk. I have some business I have to attend to downstairs." He leaves the two former partners alone. LaRue looks through the psyche file he had asked for.

"Got some news, lovah."

"Gettin' hitched?" LaRue snickers, looking down.

"Not yet. I was over at the Kubiak about two weeks ago. My cousin was havin' a party. One of his friends brought somebody over. Jill."

LaRue pops his head up. "J…Jill? You mean, Jill Thomas? The chick you broke up with a few years ago?"

"Six. That's right, babe. The same Jill. We got around to talkin' and we're thinkin' of givin' it another try. She said she'd like to play for keeps this time. She got the whole dance routine out of her system."

"You serious, Neal?"

"As sure as I can be. Not getting any younger. Knee actin' up. Feelin' a lot older than I am. Not bein' able to go out in the streets anymore. 'course I was offered a new partner. Said, 'No way. The only partner I want is J.D. by my side."

LaRue shakes his head in disbelief. "Man."

"Sometimes the past can come back and haunt you." Washington gives a big toothy smile.

"Heh. Yeah." LaRue answers with thought to those words.

"So!" Washington rubs his hands together. "How would you like to make it a double date? Me and Jill. You and whatever lucky lady awaits. Lovah, I'll bet you've got them all lined up like ducks in a row. One turns you down? The next one gets picked."

LaRue raises his brows at the thought. "Uh, yeah." He reluctantly agrees.

Washington can tell his former partner is answering but not like he had in the past. "Somethin' botherin' you, babe?"

"Me? Nah. Just uh, some files. Really makes you think." LaRue shakes his head again.

"Anyway, Thursday's the big date. Got it all planned. One of the nicer restaurants. Not some bar. You up for it?"

"Th... Thursday? _This _Thursday?"

"Yeah. You know? Three days from now?"

LaRue answers with a preoccupied mind. "I, uh…"

"I'm sure Jill would love to see you too."

LaRue walks to the captain's desk. He puts a hand on it, tapping his fingers. His eyes dart back and forth, away from Washington's sight. Mulling it over nervously, he answers while squinting back. "I'll see what I can do." He turns back to his former partner with the flash of a smile.

Washington takes the toothpick out of his mouth as he exclaims, "_Awwwright_, lovah!" He gives LaRue a slap on the back. "I'll see you then, babe. You won't regret it."

LaRue nods back in agreement. "Yeah." He turns to look back as Washington walks away. Pushing his hair back, he gives a deep sigh.

Washington nearly walks into Calletano without looking.

"Hello, Neal!" The former commanding officer says in excitement.

"Hey, Ray!" Washington lights up with a big smile. "Long time, no see, man. How are you?"

Calletano can't wipe the smile off his face. "I am doing _great_, Neal." He takes the detective sergeant's hand in a firm grasp. "Better than I thought."

"That's great, Ray. Glad to hear it."

"As a matter of fact…" Calletano starts to explain, when Furillo reappears upstairs.

"Ray! So wonderful to see you. And how is your company going these days?"

"That is why I am here." Calletano says while smiling. "I have been appointed, leader of Latin American officers by the mayor. He saw me for who I am, not for playing politics like Chief Daniels. He figured since I was with the police department, who better to teach other officers about maintaining their heritage while doing their duty to serve and protect? I agreed with no questions asked. I am to give a speech next week to the officers of _this_ precinct. Mi casa!"

"That's wonderful news! I'm proud of you, Ray."

"I know. I am so _excited_! Calletano's Language Inc.!" Ray responds enthusiastically.

Lt. Hunters steps up to him. "Congratulations mi amigo!"

"Thank you, Howard. Oh, this is a dream come true for me!" Calletano gushes.

LaRue slowly steps out of the captain's office, still preoccupied in thought. Calletano then spots him. "J.D.!"

The former detective responds back just as enthusiastically. "Hey! Hey! Ray!"

"One big reunion." Washington says, watching the exchange of pleasantries.

"J.D., like I told the others, you are now looking at Leader of the Latin American Officers. Appointed by the mayor himself. "La justicia a sido servida! Justice is served!" Calletano smiles.

"Great, Ray!"

"Now, I only hope I can drive to these seminars by next week. My car is in the shop. Rosa's had to bring me everywhere. She said if I don't get it back by next Monday, I would have to call a cab! As it is right now…" Calletano checks his watch. "…I have to be at the office in no more than a half an hour."

Furillo asks, "What about Rosa?"

"She went to run a few errands while I was here. But, I can not wait."

"The building is on the east, right?" LaRue asks. "Between Forbes & Market St.?"

"Yes. That is it."

"No problem. Let me just make a quick phone call."

Nearby, Sgt. Bates calls out, "Hill! Renko! We got a domestic on Jefferson!"

"No problem Ms. Lucy!" Renko shouts back. He and Hill scurry out the door before saying their goodbyes. "Hey, J.D., ol' buddy, don't be a stranger 'round these here parts. Always good to see you."

Hill says, "That goes for me too, lovah."

Furillo watches the two leave, with a growing smile.

Away from the squad room, LaRue places a phone call. "Yeah. Rockford? I'm looking for the Rockford Airport?" He clicks on a pen and jots down the number.

Nearby, Calletano says to Furillo. "I just need the roster of all the Spanish speaking officers in the precinct."

"Oh, that won't be a problem Ray."

LaRue returns to the group. "Okay. We set to go?"

"Yes we are, J.D." Calletano answers with pride.

Bates hesitantly looks up from her paperwork. Her eyes meet LaRue's. Then she goes back to closing the file drawer.


	3. Chapter 3

On their way to Calletano's Language Inc., LaRue lights up a cigarette. Calletano looks at him in a perturbed fashion. He furrows his brows and waves the smoke away from his face. "J.D., must you do that?"

"What?" LaRue asks. He briefly looks at his hand on the wheel holding a cigarette. "This? Hey, you're getting this ride for free. Until you pay up…"

Calletano tosses a ten dollar bill at him. LaRue tosses the cigarette out the window.

"Man, keep your money. I don't want it."

Calletano shoves the money in his back pocket. He looks at the former detective. "Enjoying Division?"

"Yeah." LaRue readily answers. "What's there not to? I get paid good. Sleep later hours. Don't have to clean up after scum on the streets. Don't screw up like I used to. Help others with problems that I've gone through." His voice changes lower. "Stay in an office alone. Stay home alone."

Calletano notices the change in tone. "Ever miss the Hill?"

"Sure. I miss the people. Not the work. Can't go back there. Too much history. Especially with recent events."

"Recent?" Calletano quizzically asks. "Lady problems, J.D.?"

"Uh, kind of."

"You were always in heat."

"I'm not sayin' that quick, hot, passionate, sensual energy isn't satisfying."

"It's just not enough for you."

"Sometimes monogamy is good."

"Monogamy? You? I never figured you of all people to have that word in your vocabulary."

"Hey, a leopard can change its spots, right?"

"I wouldn't know."

LaRue grins back. "Neither would I. All I know is, maybe I've grown...a little."

Calletano looks at him, seeing the nervousness in his body language. "So, women problems it is. There is nothing bad about being monogamous. It's especially wonderful when you find the right girl. Like I've got my Rosa. Nobody turns my head like her and nobody could make marinated chicken and peas like her. I know she will be there beside me when I wake up in the morning. Happiness is key, J.D. You might find it when you least expect to. You just have to open your heart to it."

LaRue sighs heavily. "Thank you, Dr. Freud." He shakes his head. "Not that easy."

"Ah, you already have your eye set on someone." Calletano smiles in understanding.

"It's complicated."

"_Complicated_?"

"Uh, yeah. Two."

"Two women? You mean like Phil was with Cindy and Grace Gardner?"

"Uh, more like opposite sides of the spectrum. Possibly."

"_Possibly_? You mean you don't know how the other one _is_? I'm confused, J.D."

"It's a complex situation I'm dealing with. I just found out about this a couple of weeks ago."

"And the other?"

LaRue raises his brows as he thinks aloud. "She's really something else. I don't know. Never saw it before. If you were to tell me…" He shakes his head.

"Tell you what, J.D.?"

"I'm still trying to figure it out."

"What?"

"Fate. Karma. Cosmos. Universe." LaRue checks his jacket pocket, feeling with one hand. "Man…"

"What is it?" Calletano asks.

"Out of cigarettes. Listen, I'll stop by the pharmacy on the way down."

"Will I get to the office in time?"

"Relax, Ray. You'll get there just fine."

Ten minutes later they arrive at the pharmacy. LaRue gets out of the car. He goes around to the passenger's side. "Ray, we'll still have…" He checks his watch. "Five minutes to spare by the time we get there. Promise."

Unsure, Calletano thinks it over. He nods back. "Okay."

LaRue goes inside the store.

A few miles away, a police unit is driven by officer Denver Johnson with his partner Bryce Kincaid. A block down they spot four men all dressed in black with ski masks and Lupara rifles running from a bank. One back pedals and shoots the door. A guard races out and fires a single shot, hitting the robber in the leg. Two of his buddies rush over and carry the limping man to an awaiting black van. Dropping off their loot, they scramble inside. The guard takes aim again and fires a shot into the back of the screeching van. One robber says, "Step on it!" They speed away.

"All units on the look out. Black van. Armed robbery at Market St. Bank. Suspects last seen on Kent St. headed towards Lawrence Ave." The female dispatcher calls out over the radio police units.

Johnson reacts quickly. "That's us!"

Kincaid says, "Call it in?"

"Uh-uh. The channel don't work. This one's ours. You want to tell the captain we were on the other side of town for better doughnuts?"

"Remember what the Lieutenant said." Kincaid answers hastily.

"The lieutenant ain't here. Ya got me?" Johnson flares his nostrils. He steps on the gas.

Kincaid turns to his partner nervously, "You wanna get in trouble a..."

"Just shut up! Do your duty as an officer of the law and just shut up."

LaRue arrives back to his car. "All set to go."

"Good." Calletano answers back briskly.

They start to pull out from the side of the road where a taxi pulls up from behind. LaRue looks in the rearview mirror, smiles to himself and says, "I should just be a cab driver."

"Speaking of driving, J.D., when did you get this car? It is _exquisite_! From your brother in-law?"

"Rob? You think the guy would sell me a car like this? Even on my worst days of drinkin' I could see right through that little weasel. I wouldn't trust him with anything."

"Yet your sister is married to him."

"Not my choice Ray. Got the car four months ago. Finally able to pay on a mode of transportation that won't leave me to be financed…" LaRue stops talking when he hears the distant sound of a police siren. Then he continues, "…into the next century."

"What is it?" Calletano asks, noticing the concerned expression on LaRue's face.

"Siren. I'm gonna pull over 'cause they're comin' up on us _real_ fast.

"Okay."

A black van nearly cuts them off from a nearby side street, screeching its tires as it rounds the corner. LaRue feels his heart jump as he sees the police cruiser roaring down the street with various other cars quickly beeping and pulling over to the right. A tractor-trailer approaches from the opposite lane. The police unit swerves around the big truck. The alerted LaRue flashes his sight to the side of the road just as the cruiser zooms by only a couple of inches away. He jerks the wheel to the right. Calletano's eyes catch sight of something in the passenger's side mirror. LaRue's gray sedan clips a second police unit blazing past him on the right with no warning. The impact sends the sedan spinning.

"!"

The car pin-wheels into the tractor-trailer in the opposite lane. The roof gets sheared off from the impact and shatters the windshield. Finally, what's left of the sedan squarely sits under the big truck as the smoke from screeching tires floats down the street. One of the side view mirrors drops to the ground.

Hill knocks on the door as Renko awaits. They hear a scream. "Alberto Gonzales, we know you're in there!" Hill calls out, drawing his revolver from the holster.

A woman's muffled voice comes through. "He's going out the window! Hurry!"

Hill kicks open the door, where he finds a young woman shivering in fear while holding a baseball bat. He and Renko look out the window at a fire escape. Come on, Renko."

Renko shakes his head. "A fire escape? I'll meet you down the stairs."

Hill flares his nostrils, shakes his head, then proceeds out the window. He begins to descend the ladder carefully. Gonzales turns around to see the officer climbing down, before he knows it, he runs right into Renko. The officer restrains the man and puts him on the ground quickly. Taking out a pair of handcuffs, he states, "Alberto Gonzales, you're under arrest for violating a restraining order."

"She called me, man!" Gonzales shouts. "I go over and she got a bat!"

"That's a heartwarming story I do believe the judge would want to hear."

Hill climbs down from the ladder. "Renko, how did you get him so fast?"

"Well there Bobby Hill, I told you the stairs would be best instead of using those parallel monkey bars you were on."

"Parallel monkey bars? Renko, you takin' English classes with Lt. Hunter?"

"I have not, Bobby."

"You won't go down a ladder because you know and I know that you're just plain too fat and lazy."

"I do not do heights."

"Like I said, cowboy. Fat and lazy."

The two quarrel some more as they lead Gonzales to the back of their police unit.

Two fire engines, several EMTs, a coroner's van, and numerous police cars gather on Lawrence Ave. A team of investigators and firefighters try and clean up the mess. Two police officers talk to a distraught truck driver. A dark sedan with flashing red light is allowed through the barricade where several onlookers watch.

Capt. Frank Furillo gets out of the car to check the scene. He clutches his beige trench coat against a sudden frosty breeze. Walking forward, he can't quite believe the destruction which looks like a storm touched ground. Glancing to his left, he spots two firefighters working on a car lodged against a fire hydrant. A flood of water makes its way down a path, surging into a sewer.

"Furillo!" A man's voice calls out.

The captain looks ahead to see a man dressed in fire gear approach him.

"Bascomb, what's going on?"

The fire inspector says, "Bad accident, Frank."

"I can see that. Why am I here and what are you doing on this side of town? I thought Company 5 handles this area?"

"I can't help it if mine was faster on the scene. Good thing."

"And you called me for this? It looks like you have enough people. Looks like a hurricane came through here."

"Frank, I called you for a reason. Two of your guys. John LaRue and Ray Calletano. Don't think I don't know who they are. I have to warn you. It's not a pretty sight."

Furillo glances at Bascomb. He rushes over to the crushed car underneath the tractor trailer. Bascomb follows him. The captain takes a hard swallow when he sees a white sheet covered over the passenger's side.

Bascomb says, "You don't want to look under there. It's a mess."

Furillo says to himself aloud in a harsh whisper. "Dear God. Ray." He puts his hand on the sheet, holding back tears. Dropping his head, he remains numb.

"When the windshield burst from the impact, that's when it must have gotten him. Either that or simply being crushed. The medical examiner says his spine shattered up to the neck. If it wasn't the glass that got his aorta, then he would have been paralyzed. That much damage to one person."

Furillo says in a mere whisper, as he tries to shield his face from tears. "He was so happy…about the promotion from the mayor. LaRue?"

"They sent him over to County General. The guy must have nine lives. Not many people survive something like that. He was slumped over the steering wheel. Barely a scratch but in very rough shape. The EMTs discovered he had a faint pulse and pulled him out. No telling how he is inside."

Furillo looks up the street. "They were only five minutes away." His sadness slowly morphs into anger. "Who did this?" He asks with gritted teeth.

Bascomb answers with, "A cab driver across the way saw the whole thing. You might not get too much out of him though. He was too busy puking his guts out earlier."

The captain wipes away his tears and walks across the empty street littered with emergency personnel cleaning up. Slowly he takes a breath before stepping onto the sidewalk where a detective from East Ferry and the drugstore worker tend to the cab driver who breathes into a paper bag. The worker holds a small cup.

Furillo says, "Raschman, what can you tell me?"

"The guy, Lenny, saw the whole thing. He's told us little things but it's hard to get the full picture."

The captain answers back with a nod. "Let me try it." He steps over to the man. "Sir?" The despondent cab driver shivers, staring ahead. "Uh, Lenny? I'm with the Hill St. Police Department. Capt. Frank Furillo. Those were two of my closest friends in that car."

The cab driver's eyes slowly roll to Furillo in tear struck grief. "It was…here. They were. Pulled out. Two. Like you. The…the car. It was spin..ning. Couldn't… Couldn't do…" Lenny starts to breathe hard again, throwing his head into the paper bag for air. "…any… Anything. Helpless. Screeching tires." He holds his temples as if hypnotized. "Awful squeal. Shattering glass... Stuck under."

Furillo looks at Raschman for a second. "Two. Like me?"

Raschman shrugs his shoulders. "The guy's in shock. Frank, I'm really sorry what happened."

Lenny says, "Two. Both sides. Driving fast. Faster…faster! Nearly parallel." He takes a large swallow. "One had…a…siren. The other…" The cab driver takes another swallow. He shakes his head. "No."

Furillo feels his body temperature grow cold as he puts everything together. "Cops?" Lenny can't answer. The captain wants to pick him up and shake the answer out of him. "Cops?" Furillo blinks back with numbness. "Cops? Police did this?" He asks with uncertainty against his chapped lips and icy tears waning in his tear ducts. Glancing back to the accident scene, he watches the medical examiner roll away the gurney containing Ray Calletano underneath the sheet. Thinking for a moment, he catches sight of a nearby police unit. Without looking at Raschman, he says, "Take care of him."

The captain walks over to an unoccupied police unit. Getting inside, he places a call over the radio. "Dispatch, this is Capt. Frank Furillo of Hill St. I need…" He swallows back the lump in his throat when he sees the medical examiner pull away. "I need the most recent activity between the coordinates of Lawrence Ave. and Kent St."

"Dispatch responding. Robbery on Bank St. Shots fired at 8:40. Black van pursued at 8:43. Response by units 1430, 1431, 1433, and 1434. Black van apprehended at 8:58 by units 1430, 1431, 1433, 1434, 2208, and 2209."

Furillo studies the numbers in his mind. He winces back. "Dispatch. Can you please repeat? Just the units."

"Units 1430, 1431, 1433, 1434, 2208, 2209."

Furillo inhales deeply. Nearly, letting the receiver go he answers, "Thank you."


	4. Chapter 4

Hill and Renko arrive at the station with Alberto Gonzales in their custody. He yells, "She tricked me! The little tramp got me over there 'cause she said she didn't wanna fight no more. Now I'm gonna get hauled off to jail 'cause of her!" Gonzales wriggles furiously.

Renko puts his hand on the man's back and yells, "Will you please shut up! What you _sir_, are going to be looking at will be breach of peace."

Gonzales turns his head even though he's being held down. "Whose?"

Renko gets in his face. "Mine!"

Hill adds in, "Alberto, I'd strongly advise you to take my partners suggestion."

They bring him over to be booked on charges, with the khaki officer present.

Stepping through the threshold of Hill Street Station, Furillo walks into the usual calamity of typewriters and chatting echoing throughout. Hill and Renko turn their attention as Gonzales is led away. Sniffling back, the captain speaks in a nasally tone. "Uh, if I could have your attention…please." He looks around the room. Everybody stops what they're doing. Goldblume slowly walks towards Furillo as the rest look on. He can clearly tell something isn't right by seeing the captain's bloodshot eyes and somber demeanor. Furillo takes a deep breath. Blinking back tears, he announces, "Um, at about 8:45 this morning…" He looks down trying to gather his thoughts. "Uh, there's no easy way to put this. I'm still trying to…understand…what happened. At about 8:45 this morning was an accident which happened on the east side of town. You know your colleagues by heart because you work with them. Day in and day out. Um…" He puts a tissue up to his nose as eyes upon him grow with worry and confusion. "It involved a pursuit of some suspects and one fatality. Former Lieutenant, Ray Calletano and former de…detective, John… You know him better as J.D. LaRue were struck by a police unit, causing the car to crash into a nearby tr…truck."

Goldblume quietly says, "Oh my God."

Hill and Renko look down.

Furillo takes in a hasty gulp of air. "A tractor trailer." He closes his eyes. "Uh, our dear friend and former colleague, Lieutenant, Ray Calletano was…pronounced dead at the scene."

A collection of gasps and looks of horror fill the squad room.

Someone from the back yells out, "But, he was just here!"

Furillo looks at each face, filled with numbness and tears.

Belker blinks back in confusion. "Ray?"

Lt. Hunter slowly takes off his cap and glasses. He swallows hard. "Raymundo." The name slowly leaves his lips as his cheeks become tear streaked. "Me amigo."

Washington puts his head in his hands. Then the thought occurs to him. Panicked he asks, "J.D.!"

Furillo answers with, "LaRue's in the hospital. I was told they didn't know how he made it out of there alive."

"Where is he?"

"County General."

Bates looks on stunned. Her jaw drops.

Washington puts his hands in his pockets, shaking his head. "How did it happen?"

"It was during a robbery pursuit by units of 1400 and 2200.

Belker immediately steps forward and hisses, "2200? Those are our units."

Furillo looks at the angered detective. "Yes. Mick."

"You're telling us that units from this precinct were responsible for killing Calletano and putting LaRue in the hospital?"

Goldblume slowly comes out of his state of shock. "What numbers, Frank?"

"2208 and 2209." Capt. Furillo answers stiffly.

"2208 was assigned to Gelman and Jolevitch. 2209 was assigned to Johnson and Kincaid."

Belker shakes like an awakening volcano. Gritting his teeth, he finally explodes, wanting to attack Furillo. Officers Buchanan and Garcia hold him back. "I told you! You wouldn't listen to me! I told you that I didn't like those new guys." He darts his eyes to a bereft Lt. Goldblume. "_He_ even knew it. He didn't like them either!"

"Mick." Goldblume says with a sigh.

Furillo says, "I'm sorry Mick. I'm sorry I didn't listen to you."

"That's not going to bring Ray back!" Belker shouts, nearly in tears. "It's not going to take LaRue out of the hospital either! What will it take for you to trust us?"

Furillo looks into the enraged Belker's brown eyes, feeling the detective's panting breath close to him. "Mick, I take full responsibility for this." He survey's the whole room of tear stained eyes of shock and sadness. "I'm telling all of you that this is my fault. Nothing I say can change the outcome of what happened. Yes. It was an accident. People in the department complained about these four transfers. M…more than just Mick." He shakes his head, and eyes the floor. "And, I did not listen." Looking back up, he says, "In the process, I failed all of you. Most of all I failed Ray Calletano and John LaRue." Feeling a lump in his throat, he states quickly, "I'm sorry." Furillo then rushes away to his office.

Officers and detectives feel at a loss of what to do. Some slowly make a move to step back. Others stand in place numbly. Renko's eyes well up with tears.

A short time later, Furillo feels comfortable enough to walk out of his office. He calls out, "Neal, I ju…" He's cut short when Ray's wife, Rosa arrives at the station.

"Oh, hi Frank." She answers in a bubbly tone. "I'm just wondering if Ray's still around? His car broke down and he's been nagging me to bring him to work when he knows that I have errands to run. I tell him, 'Honey, dinner doesn't walk onto your plate by itself.' And he would say, 'I know, but one more day. Then the car should be ready.'" Each and every time I've fallen for it. You know I c…" She looks at Furillo's eyes. She could tell he had been crying. Curiously, she scans the room with her eyes at the men and women of Hill St. Station. They all remain silent. Glancing back with sudden worry, she says, "Frank? What's wrong? You look like you've been crying. As if somebody just died."

Furillo takes Rosa by the shoulder, urging her to go with him in his office.

Various members of the department watch them disappear inside the captain's quarters. The door shuts. Bates holds a tissue to her nose.

"I can't believe what's happening."

Goldblume answers back, trying to keep it together. "Nobody can, Lucy."

Lt. Hunter makes his way closer than anybody to Furillo's office. "I would like to know how they were allowed in this precinct first and foremost. Officers of the law call in…"

"!"

Everybody is witness to Rosa Calletano's tortured scream. Hunter is taken aback by the sight of her hitting the captain, pounding her fists against his shoulders, then crying hard against him. Through the door, they can hear her muffled yells of, "Not my Ray! Not my Ray! No! No! No!" Her words cut deep into those who were trying to convince themselves it was only a nightmare, instead awakening a reality. As the sight unfolds, Furillo tries to calm Rosa.

The captain opens the door to his office and calls out to Goldblume, "Henry, I want you to spend some time and talk with Rosa. You're better at this than me and I really need you right now."

Goldblume swallows back hard and nods, "Sure. Sure thing, Frank."

Furillo's eagle eyes stare at Washington. "Neal? I want you to come with me. We're going to the hospital." He dons his coat in seconds. As he throws on a scarf, Bates steps out from the crowd.

"Captain, I want to come too."

Furillo looks at her, unable to comprehend her willingness to tag along. After all, she didn't always see eye to eye with LaRue. He turns to Washington for approval. Washington nods back in agreement.

Knowing her request comes out of the blue, she hesitantly answers. "I've known him a lot longer than either of you."

Furillo answers in a matter-of-fact tone. "Okay."

The three briskly make their way out of the station.

Lt. Hunter plops down at one of the nearby desks to collect his thoughts.

Inside, County General Hospital, doctors mill about. Capt. Furillo asks at the main desk where LaRue is staying. The receptionist gives him the coordinates. The three continue on when a doctor immediately recognizes the captain.

"Frank."

"Dr Mendelsohn."

"I know. You're here to see John LaRue."

"Yes."

"As you know, he's in the TICU. Nobody knows right now the extent of his injuries. It's my understanding that the passenger didn't make it."

"Yes. That would be correct."

"Who was it?"

"Um, former Lt. Ray Calletano."

The doctor looks on in grief. "I'm so sorry to hear that. Ray was a good man."

"I know."

"Please give my condolences to his family."

"I will." Furillo looks back at Washington and Bates by his side. "You two, make yourselves comfortable in the waiting room. I need to talk with Dr. Mendelsohn."

The two walk away with Bates leaning her head against Washington's shoulder for comfort.

Furillo asks the doctor, "Is there any more you can tell me about LaRue?"

"Besides the fact he made it out of that horrendous crash alive? John might look okay from the outside. No facial abrasions or cuts. Looks normal. In reality, he's worse off than when you were shot. He was breathing when they got him out of the wreck. Shallow, but breathing. His blood pressure was very low when he was brought in. He had shortness of breath due to a crushed rib which we had to inflate. There's no telling if he has any blood clots. We haven't even brought him in for an EKG. It's a wait and see situation, Frank."

"What are… What are his chances?"

"I'm not going to lie to you, Frank. He's touch and go. More touch, than go. We don't fully know yet, but his insides were crushed pretty badly. He's been on and off oxygen. I would prepare either way, 'cause that's the way it can go."

"Can he have visitors?"

"Yeah. Don't overwork him though."

"How about communicating?"

"He's on and off. We try to use the blinking system so he doesn't have to verbally answer as much. It's a lot of pressure on him. So, I strongly advise all of you to be careful. Oh, and one at a time."

"Understood. Thank you, doctor."

Dr. Mendelsohn nods and walks away. Furillo calls on Washington in the waiting room. "Neal?" Washington looks up, then back at Bates.

Washington slowly walks into the small room where his former partner lies. Small tubes intertwine for passing liquids. An accordion styled ventilator breathes as the heart monitor picks up every steady beat. The oxygen mask muffles soft steady breaths. Washington pulls off his cap and takes a seat in a nearby swivel chair. He puts a hand to his face out of grief. Taking the toothpick out of his mouth, he releases a sigh. "Oh man." Taking in the sight of the heart monitor's readings of jagged zigzags, Washington is lost for words. Nodding, he tries to cheer himself up despite the ill feeling in his own heart. Noticing that LaRue's eyes are closed, his partner can only ramble on softly in avoidance of turning misty eyed. "Look at you, gorgeous. Not a scratch. You got nine lives, babe. Doctor says you are one lucky dude to make it out of that accident alive. I know you're tough. You taught me a lot I know. We got into a lot of scrapes together, and uh, isn't that what partners are for?" He swallows back. You got in a lot of trouble yourself, but uh, I admire you for kickin' drinkin' to the curb. You said you wanted to beat it, and you did. Not many folks can turn their lives around even after a second chance. For some, it takes years…a life time. You? It was over motor pool." Washington chuckles back. "I gotta tell you, lovah, when you took that job over in division, I knew it was what you needed, but I couldn't help feelin' hurt. All those times together? Ten years? You took a bullet for me twelve years ago. You saved my life. I couldn't put that behind me 'cause I don't think I could do that for another human being. I could never be as brave as you. To think that might have changed you in a bad way for a time. Man,... Just like I couldn't put up with another partner who didn't turn an eye to a pretty girl or broke out an insane prank or told a funny joke. It just wouldn't be the same." He looks down at LaRue. "I remember I was laid up in the hospital twice with a bullet wound. Both times when I woke up? You were there for me. The Benedetto case, you came and visited me the day after and brought a little gift. You got me a pack of toothpicks. Man, I felt at home. Nobody knows me as well as you do. And, uh, that's why you gotta make it." Washington puts his hands together in praying motion. "You gotta make it for everybody who cares about you. You might not believe it, but a lot of folks are rooting for you to get better. The captain, even Lucy showed up. Then back at the station. Lt. Hunter, and there's Andy, Bobby, Henry, and Mick's really broken up about it. We all are. But uh,…" Bowing his head down, Washington waits for the sadness to pass. Suddenly, he feels a hand pat his. Gathering his emotions, he turns to face LaRue. The green eyes he remembered so well blink and squint in happiness of seeing his former partner. Washington slowly beams with a smile. "Awright, lovah. I knew you could make it. When you get out, I'm gonna take good care of you, so you'll be the good ol' J.D. we all know and… You know, all that stuff. I'll even bring you some of those girly magazines when they stop hookin' you up to this here heart monitor. Sound like a good deal? You're gonna have it made with all the pretty nurses around these parts and the sponge baths? Lap of luxury, babe!" He smiles mischievously.

Just beyond the waiting room, Furillo talks on the phone with Goldblume. "It can go either way, Henry. Dr. Mendelsohn said he's touch and go. He has relatives fairly close by, am I right?"

Henry answers back. "Yeah, uh, his sister. Peg Nelson. Her husband, Rob runs a dealership out of the north side of town. John's mentioned them both before. I think it's a dealership. Something about car selling. I called him already. One of the guys told me where to call. So, I did. Peg's on her way."

Furillo rubs his forehead nervously. "Okay."

"Frank? You need to come back down to the station."

"Can't you handle it, Henry?"

"It's Chief Daniels. He wants to see you."

"Can't you tell him to wait? I'm at the hospital waiting for word on LaRue."

Chief Daniels grabs the phone away from Goldblume. "Frank. I know what's going on but I must speak with you at once. It's urgent."

"Okay. I'll be there shortly. Bye."

The captain hangs up and briskly walks toward Bates, who wipes her eyes.

"Where…?"

Furillo answers for her. "I have to go back to the station for a little bit. The chief needs to see me right away for something. When Neal comes out, you can see what he says and if it's okay then go ahead and visit J.D."

She nods back. He takes her face and plants a kiss on her forehead. Sniffling back, Bates looks up and smiles weakly.

"Okay."

At the station, Renko is preoccupied in thought as Hill returns with an arrest report.

Hill tries to stay in good spirits. "Mr. Gonzales' report is complete. Now, it's up to the judge to see what he decides."

Renko stares straight ahead, answering somberly. "I thought them new shiny computers took care of that?"

"Renko…"

"No more Calletano. I remember the first day I met him. That was in May of '75. He was so proud of his Colombian heritage. He would give each and every one of us a history lesson on his ancestors. 'Kiy-et-onno.' He would correct anybody if they got it wrong. Nobody did. That meant a lot to him. And, J.D., wonderful, crazy, brave… Rackin' up those arrests like it was goin' out of style."

Hill takes his partner by the shoulders. "Andy, we _have_ to think _positive_ about J.D. He's not gone."

"I should've beaten that boy 'til he was black and blue."

"Who?"

"That loud mouth, Johnson. If I woulda done just that, he wouldna been able to drive and R…"

"Renko! You can't blame yourself for what happened. You gotta realize it was an accident. We don't know if it was Johnson or any of those other transferees."

"How do we know it's not? I heard what Henry said. Those boys were assigned to those individual units."

"Partner, I don't know what else to say." Hill says, shaking his head. Renko holds his arm. He gives him a distressed look before the tears start to flow.

"I'm scared, Bobby. I don't wanna lose J.D. too."

Furillo returns, briskly walking past the main desk. Goldblume steps around the corner of the captain's office. Chief Daniels eagerly walks toward Furillo.

"Frank!" He hastily remarks.

Agitated, Furillo mutters back, "This better be important."

"Glad you could come so quick. I heard about the accident on the radio and who was involved. I'm so sorry to hear about the passing of Calletano and LaRue."

"LaRue is still alive. He was taken to County General."

"In that case, my condolences to Lt. Calletano's family. His wife, Rolanda…"

"Rosa." Furillo corrects him. "What is so important, Chief?"

"I was trying to talk with Lt. Goldblume here and clear a misunderstanding I think we could all agree on, Frank."

Furillo faces him. "And, what is that, Chief?"

"It's about Denver Johnson, Bryce Kincaid, Ryan Gelman, and Lou Jolevitch. Frank, the mayor wants to give them a citation for bravery."

Furillo finds it hard to swallow. He scowls. "For?"

"For acting upon the call of duty. For apprehending a dangerous group of bank robbers. Individuals who have killed guards and put others in hospitals for the sake of their own greed."

"Chief, are you aware that those four men were out of jurisdiction at the time?"

"Does a cop go into a burning building to save a life, despite not having the equipment of a firefighter? These are trained people to save lives, Frank. Whether they are police officers, firefighters, EMTs. They all have a duty to serve the common man.

"On the east side of town for a doughnut run. Crashing into various vehicles. Killing one officer and having another fight for his life in a hospital."

"Frank, I know how you feel, and I'm sorry but…"

Furillo squints as his blood pressure rises. "You're sorry?" He grits his teeth. "You weren't there to see the lifeless body underneath a white sheet plastered with blood on it. You weren't there to see a cab driver who was a witness throw up on the curb from watching the whole thing happen. You weren't there when I had to console a grieving widow in my office just a couple of hours ago. You come into my precinct and give me the news which I'm supposed to be overjoyed by a mayor's citation for bravery. The only justice I can see for those four is that they get locked behind prison bars, so they don't hurt or kill another innocent bystander again!"

Chief Daniels stands firm. "I'm sorry you feel that way, Frank. Here I was going to ask you to present them with the awards."

An infuriated Furillo, seethes and grits his teeth. "Over my dead body."

"Well then." Chief Daniels remarks in a nearly hurt tone. Instead of saying anymore, he walks away.

Goldblume approaches the captain.

"Where are they?" Furillo asks sternly.

"Downtown, awaiting further investigation. Their fate is pending."

Furillo looks straight ahead.


	5. Chapter 5

Bates takes LaRue's hand, holding until the tears roll. She reaches for a tissue with her free hand. Taking place of where Washington sat, her eyes never leave LaRue. Bates' voice squeaks her fond remembrance. "I remember. You had such a firm grip. Don't leave us now, J.D." She sniffles back, glancing at the heart monitor. She cracks a smile. "You're gonna be okay. You know, you're so full of surprises. Like I told you before, here I thought you were just an obnoxious jerk a lot of the times. There's so much more to you that gets over sighted because of those few bad years. You've done so much for others. You've done things for me and I'm not talkin' about…" She shakes her head. "I know I've misjudged you a lot and…" Tears well up in her eyes. "…I'm so sorry." Again, the sergeant breaks down and cries. She feels her hand being squeezed again. Looking over, Bates sees LaRue's charm through his eyes. Placing a hand over his chest, she quietly utters. "Love you."

In the waiting room, Furillo returns. He sees Washington talking with a very nervous auburn haired woman.

Washington looks up, "Uh, Captain? This is Peg Nelson. J.D.'s sister."

"Hi, Ms. Nelson. Capt. Frank Furillo of Hill St."

"How is he?"

"He's in rough shape. I haven't been in there to talk with him yet, but you most certainly can."

"No." Peg shakes her head. "No. I can't go in there."

"John is your brother?"

Peg turns away, ready to pace the floor. Arms folded, she shakes her head again as though everything is simply a very bad dream. "It's what I should have expected to hear since he's a cop. It's what I always dreaded. I told him he should take up some other kind of job, but he's too proud."

"Ms. Nelson…" Furillo begins.

"Please. Call me Peg."

"Um, Peg? Were you even told what happened?"

"I was only told he was in the hospital due to an accident. I figured it was some freak shooting since he quit being a detective. That is what happened?"

"Actually, it isn't. He was on the way to drop off a former lieutenant at a building on the east side of town. A police chase occurred around the same time and his car was hit."

Peg swiftly turns around. "You're not telling me that a police car hit my brother." She looks at him with extreme hurt and confusion in her eyes. "A cop did this?"

Furillo bows his head down. "Two. An eyewitness at the scene said there were two police cruisers which caused J.D.'s car to crash."

"The passenger? The lieutenant you mentioned?"

"He didn't make it. He was killed instantly."

Peg breathes back in shock. Collecting her thoughts, she gives a quick glance to what might be going on beyond the hallway nearest the waiting room. Without looking at the captain, she begins to talk. "I worried so much after he got shot that one time. I hated that he still wanted to be a cop. I had sleepless nights, wondering if I would get that one call. That one dreadful call telling me what I didn't want to hear. You know, John nearly lost his life a few years back."

Furillo arches his brows. "I know."

He was always lonely. He always wished for stability. I said it was never too late. You could be sixty and have that. He's always had that oh-so-irresistible charm. There's an ideal woman out there for him, _somewhere_." Her eyes start to water. "Isn't it ironic? My brother quits a dangerous thankless job, just to get hit by another cop? I mean, what are the chances? Can you answer me that, Captain?"

Furillo bows and shakes his head.

Bates arrives back in the waiting room. She bows her head, clears her runny nose and tear filled eyes. Slowly, she makes her way towards a concerned Washington.

"Okay?" He asks quietly.

"Yeah. I just hate seeing him hooked up to all that equipment."

Furillo asks, "Is he still awake?"

"Yeah. He is." Bates says, turning her attention to see Peg.

Washington notices her stare at the woman. He quickly introduces her. Both women shake hands. The captain looks back, eager to see LaRue. "I'll go next. Peg? If you change your mind?" He gives her an eagle-eyed glance then walks away.

Prior to entering the hospital room, Furillo takes a deep breath to prepare himself. He walks in as a nurse checks LaRue's stats. The oxygen mask is off. She flashes a quick smile to the captain, then leaves. Furillo looks back at the door for a second and walks up to the sleeping LaRue.

"J.D.?"

LaRue slowly opens his eyes. "Cap…"

"No. No. You save your energy."

LaRue closes his eyes in an agreeable fashion. Something then makes him try to grab for Furillo's arm. "Item one." He tries to breathe back quick. "Find D.J." Furillo listens as close as he can to the near whispers. "Item num..ber two. Hey, Ne… Neal." The captain gives a slight smile. "Item num… thr..three. Love…you…too." LaRue gives a quick gasp as he strains a little harder to sit up. He looks at Furillo. "R… Ra…"

Immediately, Furillo shakes his head. "Ray didn't make it." He watches LaRue's eyes sink low in sadness. He then winces in pain, trying to talk back. Furillo steadies him. "No. It's okay. Don't strain yourself. You need to relax. Blink twice for 'yes' once for 'no.'" It takes a moment for the captain to think. "About this DJ. Do you know where I can find him? Radio station?" He answers quizzically.

LaRue slowly blinks once, trying to shake his head. He reaches down, tapping himself.

Furillo tries to understand. He looks down. "Appendix?"

LaRue shakes his head and attempts to grab for the captain's waist, poking at his side.

Furillo attempts to make a connection. "Waist? Side?" He shakes his head. Then a thought occurs to him. "Pocket? Is that what?"

LaRue blinks back twice. The captain steps away, poking his head out the door as he sees a nurse walk by.

"Uh, ma'am? Do you know if it's at all possible for me to have a look at this man's belongings?"

"Well, it's not…"

Furillo pulls out his shield.

"I'll talk to the doctor." She answers quickly.

"Thanks."

Furillo returns to the bedside of his former officer. "Besides this DJ thing, there are a few things I've wanted to say to you. I hope I can say it. Um, I really wish you would come back to the station, but, you chose…you chose your reasons for not and I can completely understand. It's…it's just that I'm being ridiculously selfish and although I was…have been your boss, it's you that I've looked up to as a mentor in some way. You found your way back. You've fought every urge to not pick up a bottle again. I find you to be one of…" He tearfully sniffles back. "Oh boy. Uh, I find you to be one of the most bravest human beings that I've ever crossed paths with. I strive… I _continue_ to strive and be the better man that people think I am. I don't know if I'm as strong as you. To see my way through the light at the end of a tunnel. I'm still learning and you've been a true inspiration to me. I will always be grateful of that." The captain picks up his head, letting the tears pass.

A knock comes at the door. The nurse returns. "Here's what I could find. The shirt was destroyed by the medical team. Sorry about that."

Furillo looks through the bag. "No problem." He feels his way, then picks out a small folded piece of paper. "That'll be it. Thanks." Waiting for her to leave, he reads it. "DJ. Rockford Airport." He glances at the phone number accompanying the information. Shaking his head, he goes back by LaRue's side. "What am I saying? You'll be okay. You're a lot tougher than people think. You'll get past this."

LaRue tightens in pain as he slowly blinks once.

Furillo tries to ignore the former detective's pessimistic outlook. Just as he's about to step back, LaRue grabs for his hand, squeezing as hard as he can. With determination set in his eyes, he breathes back heavily.

"Thank…you."

He lets go.

The captain smiles and walks away. Seeing he's nearing the end of the hallway, he stops and takes a deep breath. Allowing himself some time from questions everybody is bound to ask. He feels his eyes water once more. The thought of losing Calletano and LaRue in the same day becomes too much for him. Covering his own mouth, he nervously wonders about the future. He peeks around the corner of the waiting room where Bates and Washington talk. Peg stands apart from them, staring at a picture on the wall.

Furillo glances down with another breath as he's ready to join the three. A nurse rushes by him, followed by three other staff members. Doctors race beyond the double doors of the TICU.

One calls out, "We have an A-fib patient. Car crash. His pulse is at 130!"

"Which one?"

"Room 726."

Furillo's eyes widen. He steps through the double doors, enough to see it's the room he had just stepped out of.

Dr. Mendelsohn rushes past the double doors without seeing the captain. "What have we got?" He places a mask over his face.

"A-fib."

"Bmh." He glances up at the monitor watching the patient going into shock. "150…180…210…260… Potassium levels are too low. …385…410. Fibrillator! 450… Come on, John. Come on. Don't leave us now."

Furillo stands numbly.

The sudden sound of flat lining makes him mournfully closes his eyes. Doctors solemnly file out of the room. Dr. Mendelsohn pulls up his mask and heads into the waiting room. The captain slowly watches him approach the three. Bates' eyes fill with desperation as she and the others are given the news. Immediately, her expression changes to convulsions of bitter tears. She collapses into the arms of Neal Washington. Both sob heavily against each other, unable to stop the tears from flowing. Furillo sadly watches it unfold. He had experienced Lucy Bates' pain before when she lost her partner, Joe Coffey. He knew her sobs and also her strength to carry on. This was different though. Neither Calletano nor LaRue were involved in active police duty. They were both content with their latest jobs and overzealous cops ended their lives. Furillo looks over at Peg Nelson who starts crying when the doctor hands over her brother's academy ring. She grips it tight, sobbing uncontrollably. Furillo finally makes a move to comfort her. He holds onto her as she clears her eyes.

"He started wearing it again after he went to the PPD. I don't know. Maybe it was to prove something. He couldn't stop being a cop." She clears her nose. "I have to call my husband."

She walks away.

Furillo turns his head to see Neal and Lucy still in tears clinging to each other. He briskly goes to a different pay phone where he puts in his own call.

"Henry? Call downtown. I want those four on double vehicular manslaughter charges."

"Frank, are you telling me…?"

"Yeah. Just… I'll be there soon." He looks back at Neal and Lucy.


	6. Chapter 6

Upon his return to the station, Furillo scans the area. Nobody speaks a word. The very few typewriters left in the precinct are silent. Only sniffles permeate as the captain takes small steps. Officers remove their hats and those who wear glasses remove them. Lt. Hunter removes both his cap and his glasses. He wipes his eyes with tissue and says, "He saved my life."

Furillo puts a hand on his shoulder. "I know, Howard."

The lieutenant of the EATers starts crying again, this time against the captain. "He's gone and I never got a chance to repay him."

Furillo tries to stand stoic despite the overwhelming bitter tears he and all of the precinct face.

Renko stands in numbness. His eyes meet the floor as he blubbers over in tears.

Hill asks with tear-stained eyes, "Why?"

"It was uh,… his heart. It was beating too fast until it couldn't take anymore. The doctor called it atrial fibrillation. They tried to control it, but it was too fast. Chances were if they could, he would have been fit with a pacemaker for the rest of his life."

Goldblume swallows back. "Heart attack?"

"Heart arrhythmia." Furillo shakes his head. "Nobody knew how serious his condition was. He looked fine. That was all."

Belker drops his head against the wall, crying by himself in the corner.

Washington and Bates return to the station with their heads hung low. The desk officer says quietly, "I'm sorry Neal."

Washington puts a hand on his shoulder, giving a weak smile.

Furillo says, "Neal? Take as much time as you need off."

In a soft nasally tone, Washington answers. "Thanks, Captain but uh, I think goin' home would only make me feel worse. I'll be downstairs. I just need some time to myself."

"Okay." Furillo then says, "Uh, he had a message for you. 'Hey, Neal.'"

Washington immediately flashes a quick smile. "Thanks." He walks away.

Bates watches her comrade disappear past the doorway.

"Lucy? Can I see you in my office for a moment, please?"

Bates says nothing, just does as she's told. She wipes her eyes while entering his office. Furillo closes the door. "Um, J.D. left a message for you. I'm guessing it's for you." He hands her a small slip of paper. She gives it a quick glance.

"I didn't think he would even respond to it. It was such a silly thing to say. Ya know? Spur of the moment? Anyway, thanks."

"No problem." He notices she's just about to leave. "Uh, Lucy? Was there any exact reason you chose to come along? I know you said you've known him for a greater deal of time than us."

Bates takes a breath. "Uh, yeah. Because I care what happens to everybody on The Hill. That goes for those who were formerly here. Nearly two decades of working with someone doesn't disappear overnight."

"True. Okay."

She leaves his office. He closes the door after her. Going over to his desk, Furillo pulls out the laminated badge he had looked at earlier in the day. The same one he held as he cautiously asked LaRue when he was coming back to the station. He lets his fingertips run over the slightly warped edges of the badge.

"_Det. John LaRue – Metro Police_."

The captain digs deep into a metal drawer to take out a dark book binder. He flips through the various pages of awards given to officers of The Hill. Then he stops when he finds a black and white photo with the word ''78' scrawled at the top. It was the year he had been appointed captain and was transferred to The Hill. It was also the same year, J.D. was given his third citation for bravery. He had his arm in a sling as proof. It was from taking a bullet meant for his new partner at the time, Neal Washington. Furillo looks at the image fondly of himself standing next to J.D. holding his plaque, former sergeant, Alf Chesley, and the mayor. He then finds a small newspaper clipping tucked away underneath. Picking it out, he begins to read it while holding onto the badge. Rubbing his eyes, the only thing that comes to mind is a deep sadness. Yanking out tissue, he continues to read it.

Downstairs, Neal goes inside the locker room where he faces the one his late partner used to occupy. Dropping his head against it, he begins to cry quietly.

Lucy goes down to the roll call room. All of the chairs are set up for the evening session. She glances at the tables, trying to recall how it used to be. Where she sat. Where Joe sat, next to her. Across from them would be Hill and Renko in front. LaRue and Washington directly in back. Belker next to the post or a wall. Several of the detectives and senior officers on the opposite side where the late great Sgt. Phil Esterhaus would claim his spot next to the podium. Instead of taking her usual seat, she weaves her way to the other side. A seat in back from the front row, where LaRue had consistently made his presence known. Whether he was being obnoxious, giving quips of sarcasm, smoking a cigarette, or having breakfast. It was also his favorite place to watch the female officers nearby from all angles. Lucy plops down right then and there. She unfolds the piece of paper and mouths it to herself.

"_Love you too."_

She then collapses onto the wooden table in a heap of crying convulsions.


	7. Chapter 7

Back upstairs, several officers reminisce about the late detective. Corporal officer, Jock Buchanan and Officer Eddie Garcia talk amongst themselves.

"Uh, what was it he called it?" Buchanan tries to remember.

"Oh! I know. The _saloooooondromat_."

Both burst into laughter.

Officer Chen glances back at Lt. Hunter. "You can not forget about the crazy rubber alligator he and Neal set up. Howard and his crew blew that thing to pieces! J.D. was in fits of laughter when they came back. He was so proud of that."

Another officer pipes in, "How about that time he and Neal busted the guy who was a comedian."

Buchanan says, "Bad name. The poor guy didn't want to change it and J.D. had no idea how to promote him."

"What was it again?"

"Vic Hitler."

Officer Sanchez remarks. "The Narcoleptic Comic."

Again they all laugh.

Lt. Hunter seizes the opportunity to relish in the remembrance, aside from his own grief. "Ah, yes. LaRue set up a date for him at one of those really bad clubs. I don't know for the life of me how he found those places. But, yeah, it was me, him, Leo and Myra. Vic was genuinely funny. Even the parts where he would fall asleep in an instant. Uh, until I found out that wasn't part of the act." He looks up to the ceiling. "Judas, he could be so unpredictable. J.D. was one of a kind. I remember he and Alf would tell some outrageous stories and nearly wind up on the floor from laughing so hard. Actually, J.D. did. We thought he had to be hospitalized."

Hill and Renko watch the various officers from further back. Renko says, "When I got out of the academy in '75, I was stationed here and the first person I met was J.D. Then I heard some crazy stories about him. One day we went out for beers. Of course this was before he started doin' it heavy. And uh, I asked him about it and he told me every one of those stories was true. Man, I absolutely fell in love with him. We bonded instantly after that. He was the most craziest and fun loving spirit I ever knew. The funniest too! The girls he could pick up? Boy, he could turn on his charm like a light switch. If he was in a bad mood and some pretty girl passed by? Bam! He would be tailin' her before you could blink." Renko shakes his head.

Hill says, "I remember that time at the bachelor party. What was his name? Somehow I'm thinkin' Tommy?"

"Tommy Geraci." Renko says.

"Doesn't he have like five kids now?"

"Six. He just had his sixth one."

"Man!" Hill turns more serious. "But, uh, I remember about that vice cop, Mizell and how he and J.D. got into that really big fight. Mizell pulled out his gun, and all I can think of is how you and Joe immediately shielded J.D. Neal was holdin' him back but you two stood in front of that man's gun. I don't know if it was loaded, but he definitely was. Renko, you were ready to give up your life for him."

"I am a trained police officer. Wouldn't you do the same for your own?"

Hill breathes back quickly, ready to answer when Chief Daniels walks through. Brazenly, he begins to announce, "My deepest condolences to all of you. John LaRue was a fine man and a good cop." He glances over at the officers sitting around wiping their eyes and canceling their smiles. "Uh, but don't you people have other things to do?"

At the same time, a delivery guy brings two vases of flowers which he's ordered to place at the main desk.

Belker looks at the chief with contempt. He mutters to Goldblume who stands nearby, "Can I just shoot him now?" He then notices a folder the chief is holding.

Furillo steps out of his office.

Daniels announces. "I will see to it that John LaRue has a proper police escorted service." He turns around to see the captain watching from afar. "Frank! We need to talk."

Furillo responds with a nod, allowing him into his office. Chief Daniels shuts the door behind him.

"I'll do no such thing. Frank, forget what you heard. John LaRue isn't worth the ground he's laid to rest in."

Furillo stiffens in shock at the chief's callous words. Daniels drops the folder on his desk and opens it. Picking up a print out sheet, he reads it aloud.

"John Daniel LaRue. Born August 6, 1947. Graduated from the Metro Police Academy on November 15th, 1969. Started in East Ferry right after that." He looks up. "Sounds promising. Oh, then was transferred to The Hill three months later."

Furillo's nostrils flair. "Where did you get LaRue's file?"

Daniels leans over. "It pays to be me, Frank. Especially if it's an ongoing investigation."

Furillo grits his teeth. "There is no ongoing investigation on him."

"So you say, Frank. Let's continue on. Shall we? I'll spare you by skipping the boring parts. Three citations for bravery in '71, '74, and '78. A high arrest tally. Shot in September of '78 Hmm. Impressive. Here comes the best part. Arrested for DUI in October of '78. That was shortly after his third citation. Not good for a star cop."

"I bailed him out."

Daniels looks directly at Furillo. "Honorable. Well, I see he didn't learn his lesson. He got two more of those between '79 and '80. Six sexual harassment charges which were settled out of court. A Board of Rights favorite for the panel. Twice. I have to tell you Frank, those don't go well with citations for bravery. '81 which had to do with bribery charges for the acceptance of $25,000."

"Which he was cleared of."

"Second one in '82. Intoxicated while on a stakeout?"

"I handled that too. He served his time in the motor pool."

"Oh, and here's something from the IAD in '84. He shot and killed a man in supposed self-defense late at night in somebody else's house. A couple where the husband was murdered the night before that."

"Caroline Reynolds was arrested for setting up the hit of her husband for his insurance."

"Looks like I missed one, Frank. In '81 a man by the name of Juan Sanchez from the River St. Repossession Co. filed charges against LaRue who reportedly held a gun to him. Here's the beauty of it. LaRue was six payments behind on a brand new 1981 Pontiac Coupe Deluxe at the time. On a cop's salary? Didn't you have a Pinto at the time while you were Lieutenant? Anyway, coincidence? This happened within the same year of those bribery charges. Maybe there was something to it after all?"

Furillo slowly grows outraged.

"It looks to me like your department was harboring a dirty cop."

"You son of a…"

"Now. Now, Frank. I'm only telling you this for your own good. You could be brought to trial, but lucky for you, you've got me in your corner. I know I've bailed you out of some hairy situations in the past. But, since he was an alcoholic, it's quite possible that he had fallen off the wagon, and those four young men you're trying to hang charges from just might be innocent. Perhaps even trying to perform an act of duty. Just doing their job. By all accounts, LaRue was inside a pharmacy five minutes before the accident buying a pack of cigarettes. He could have gotten some cold medicine and guzzled that down before getting behind the wheel. Who knows what an addict will do to get their rocks off, Frank?"

Furillo's eyes widen in fury.

"I'm willing to bet that Calletano's family could press charges."

The captain grits his teeth. In a guttural growl, he says., "Get out of my office."

"Frank, I hope you reconsider with everything I've given you."

"Get out of my office, _now_."

Daniels makes a hasty exit, annoyed by the captain's refusal to see things his way. Washington and Bates return to the squad room, just in time to see the chief scurry away past the double doors.

Furillo regroups his thoughts and exits his office. "Neal, I need to ask you something. Did J.D. ever mention about an investigation he was pursuing?"

"No. But, uh, come to think of it? He did seem kind of preoccupied with something."

Bates darts her eyes his way for a second, then walks away.

"Nothing about finding someone? Missing person's file? Somebody from his past?"

"Uh-uh. Sorry, Captain."

Lt. Hunter overhears the conversation. He walks towards the captain just as Washington begins to step away. "Uh, perhaps it's not Neal you want to speak with about such matters."

"Who would you suggest, Howard?"

"Uh, I saw something this morning which gave me the slightest indication that…" Hunter can see Furillo's not interested in long stories. "I saw LaRue earlier who looked like he was handing something to Bates. I couldn't be sure but it looked like a key."

Furillo calls out, "Lucy, can I talk with you for a second?"

"Uh, yeah." She hesitates, glancing around.

Lt. Hunter stands next to the captain.

Furillo asks her, "What did he tell you?"

Bates looks at him, then at Hunter, knowing she can't hide. "He said he was investigating something. It was personal and uh, that he didn't want to get anybody else involved. He told me it was something from his past and he had to deal with it." Washington stands nearby overhearing the conversation. Bates says, "I was supposed to see him Thursday." Washington looks at her. She exchanges a glance that tells him everything.

"You were supposed to talk with him Thursday night?" He asks.

Bates eyes the floor as her guilty admission.

Furillo sees the conversation is getting a little awkward and off-track of what was intended. "Neal, do you know a DJ? Perhaps at a radio station?" He pulls out the slip of paper. Bates walks back to her desk.

"J.D. knew a lot of people. Some areas of town I wouldn't want to set foot in. Who knows though. Are you sure a DJ? Can I see that?"

Furillo hands him the paper.

"Boss, that's not a DJ. See those little marks at the end of each letter? Those are initials. It's D and a J. It's somebody's name."

"What about the Rockford Airport?"

"I don't know about Rockford, but J.D. definitely would hang around the central one over here. Never turned away a pretty stewardess. Got in trouble with a few too that I can recall. You might want to start there."

"Who would I ask?"

"Any of them."

Public Defender, Joyce Davenport shows up. Slowly she shuffles by, glancing at the vases of flowers and baskets filling the main desk. Then she spots her husband.

Furillo looks up. "Thanks, Neal. I'll be sure to check. Are you sure you don't want to join me?"

"Naw." Washington shakes his head. "He told you, and I'm still… I just can't."

"Okay. Understood."

Davenport looks at Furillo with saddened eyes. She walks up and gives him a big hug. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I heard it on the radio. Just awful. Is it true? Ray and J.D.?"

"Afraid so. We lost Ray upon impact of the crash. J.D. went into atrial fibrillation. His heart couldn't take it."

"I know he was one of your favorites and you were willing to do anything for him."

"You only come across someone like LaRue once in a lifetime."

"I suppose I shouldn't ask if there's anything for me to prosecute? I'll just go somewhere else. You and the station need this time to yourselves and all of that."

He seizes her shoulders. "That's where you're wrong. There is something I need for you to do. I want you to find what I can do to get Denver Johnson, Bryce Kincaid, Ryan Gelman, and Lou Jolevitch prosecuted to the fullest extent."

"Frank, y…"

"They got Ray and J.D. killed. I don't care if they helped take down bank robbers. They were careless and they were on the wrong side of town. No regard for anybody else on the streets."

"Do you have physical evidence it was them? Because if you don't, there's nothing that can be done. A judge will only see it as an unfortunate accident."

"I want everything dug up on those four men. Their records. What they've done in the past. Even if they got in trouble for jay-walking or spit gum on the street."

"Frank, I can't do…"

"Five cars were struck in their path. There were four units from East Ferry. Those four came from different paths of directions. The two units from this precinct line up with the street Ray and J.D. were on. Is that enough evidence for you?"

She looks at him with some knowledge. "If you can get the testimony from those four units from East Ferry, you could make a case. I know how J.D. could be, but all feelings aside, he didn't deserve this. Neither did Ray Calletano. I hope you get the bastards who did this." She gives him a kiss. "I'll see you at home, later."

"I might be late. So, don't wait up. I have an investigation which I don't know how long it'll take."

Davenport nods her head. "Okay."

She leaves.

Furillo goes back into his office to fetch his coat and scarf. Opening the drawer, he takes LaRue's badge. He then spots Goldblume. "Henry?"

"Yeah, what is it Frank?"

"I need you and Howard to hold down the station while I'm out."

"Where are you going?"

Furillo tosses on his scarf. "To the central airport and hopefully to Rockford. It's about two o'clock now."

"All that way?"

"Depending on what I can accomplish at the airport."

Goldblume raises his brows. "Okay. Uh, good luck. What happens if the media calls?"

"Just tell them we're in mourning." Furillo answers as he rushes out of the station.


	8. Chapter 8

Arriving at the busy central airport, the captain looks around. Crowds of people wander around, awaiting flights or simply milling about. He focuses on two women attired in matching uniforms talking together. Turning an eye, he sees another. Then a pilot walks along with three other stewardesses.

Which to pick?

Taking a deep breath, his eyes dart back and forth at the abundance of stewardesses around. "J.D., I have no idea who your style is." He says to himself. As he slowly makes his way around, several of the stewardesses look at him up and down with a smile. He gives a small smile back and approaches one. "Hi."

"Hi yourself, handsome." The blonde stewardess responds.

"Uh, do you know where I could find D.J.? Or do they have something to do with the Rockford Airport?"

The stewardess looks at him awkwardly, "Uh…" She glances around until she spots another stewardess. "Tiff!" She calls out.

The other woman ends her conversation by handing a couple their tickets and makes her way over. "You called, Rebecca?"

"Tiffany, this gentleman is here about uh, D.J. He was asking if they transferred to Rockford."

Tiffany looks up into Furillo's eyes. She could tell he looked like trouble. "Uh, D.J.? What is it about?" She asks cautiously.

"I'm looking for a person. I'm guessing she works here." He glances around, then pulls out his wallet. "There's a gentleman I was told that came by here every once in a while." Furillo shows her a picture. "His name was John LaRue."

Rebecca snickers. "_Once_ in a while? More like _frequently_."

Tiffany looks at it. "That's him. The cop. He always had issues but that never stopped him from taking advantage of any lonely girl in our business. Personally, I always turned him down. Sad to say, my ex-roommate didn't. He came by here about two weeks ago. Somebody brought up her name and things were said. John told us he would be back for more information. Guess he changed his mind, or didn't care after all." The stewardess looks back at Furillo. "So, you never said who you were?"

The captain pulls out his badge. "I'm uh, Frank Furillo, captain of Hill St. Station. I was his boss and he was my friend."

"Was?"

"Uh, John passed away earlier today. Car accident."

Tiffany puts a hand over her mouth. She takes a slip of paper, shaking her head. Numbly she says, "Uh, I'm going to give you Jenny's address. The last time I talked with her, she said she wasn't doing the stewardess thing anymore. She's in Rockford. It's a gray house on Xavier Dr. off of Halifax Ave." Handing the paper to the captain, she says, "I'm… I'm so sorry. Please offer my condolences to his family."

"Flight 153 now boarding," goes the announcement.

Tiffany starts backing away before dashing off through the crowd.

The captain looks at the slip of paper, trying to figure it out.

The station remains quiet as officers numbly tend to their work. Some remain with a box of tissue at their desk. Belker puts his head in his hands. Goldblume goes over to put a reassuring hand on his shoulder.

"We're all feeling it, Mick."

Belker answers in a mournful state. "He was one of the few besides Robin and Stan that were there for me when I first woke up after getting shot." He blinks back. Numbly, he goes to the printer.

Goldblume looks at a still grieving Lt. Hunter, sitting nearby.

He then turns around as others do when a man in a light coat rushes inside, breathing heavily. Officers stand nearby in curiosity. The man catches his breath when he reaches the main office desk. He looks up to see his hand brushes up against a vase of flowers and his sight is directly on a large wicker basket of fruit. "Oh God!" He puts his hands to his face. "All my fault." Nervously, he loosens his tie and brushes back his short dark hair.

Khaki officer, Raymond asks, "Can I help you sir?"

"Capt. Pete Mitchell. Michigan Ave. I need to talk with Capt. Frank Furillo. It's urgent."

Goldblume walks up to him. "Mitchell?"

"I need to talk with Frank. The freakin' traffic out there is a mess. Construction in the worst place. I ran down here for two blocks."

"He's not here right now."

"I'm bustin' at the seams if I don't talk to somebody! Either that or I'm this close to jumpin' off a building."

"What is this about?"

"It's about those four guys. Johnson, Kincaid, Jolevitch, and Gelman." Capt. Mitchell looks back at the abundance of bouquets and baskets, nearly knocking over several others on another table prepared for the occasion.

Goldblume says, "Let's talk in the interrogation room."

Officers let them by. Washington looks ahead with utmost curiosity. Belker and Hunter stare too. Bates picks up a vase that leans on its side. She glances up. Various members don't know what to make of the captain of Michigan Ave.

A knock comes at the door of 33 Xavier Dr. Furillo checks his watch. It had already been nearly an hour and a half since he left the airport. There is no answer. So, he tries the doorbell. Finally, someone answers it. He glances at the sign on the side, '_Hastings_.'

"Yes?" A woman with light brown hair answers. She looks up with her light blue eyes.

He says, "Hi, I'm here about uh, D.J.?"

She answers wearily, "What did Deirdre do wrong now?" Glancing at the floor, she lets him in.

Furillo looks around.

Fluffing a pillow on the couch she says, "I try and tell her teachers she has behavioral problems. It's not from my side of the family. I'll guarantee that. Who knows where? Sometimes I blame myself though." Furillo looks at a picture of a young girl on the shelf cuddled next to her mother as the woman talks. "She can be an unruly little girl, but then she turns on her charm in a heartbeat. So, you can't stay mad at her for too long."

"How old is…Deirdre?"

"She just turned eight in January."

"Jennifer Cross?" Furillo utters.

The woman glances up startled. Her demeanor changes from welcoming to worried and suspicious. "Nobody's called me by my maiden name since I moved here. You're not a teacher, are you? Just who are you?"

"My name is Frank Furillo, captain of Hill St. Station. I can show you my badge."

Jenny backs away defensively. "He sent you here." She swiftly turns away. "I don't want anything from him. I never asked him for anything in the first place. I made a mistake ever knowing that lush. I made a bigger mistake being with him. Oh, but I fell for him. The fool I was. I thought he was handsome and charming. So sweet. Boy, was I wrong. Nothing more than a liar, thief, and a drunk."

She walks into the kitchen. He follows.

"Did he know?"

"Of course he didn't know and naturally he wouldn't care. So, I never told him. What do you think?" Bitterly she says, "He stole a diamond necklace from me at the time to bail himself out of some mess. Do you really think he could afford to pay child support? He looked so pathetic the last time I saw him. He was begging me not to report him about it. Some cop. If that wasn't bad enough, then I found out… I tried to hide it as long as I could. When it was too obvious, my boss told me I was a liability to fly and said, 'No hard feelings, Jenny. You understand. It's for the sake of you and your child's safety.' Safety my eye. Nobody wanted a fat used up stewardess. I wanted to sue the company for discrimination but I was too broke. After that, I couldn't even keep up payments for the apartment I was living in with a couple of other girls. So I came back here to live with my parents. Then I met Richard, and he's been the best thing that ever happened for me and my daughter. I was briefly with the Rockford Airport, but I quit that to spend more time with Deirdre."

"The name D.J.?" He asks.

Disgusted she says, "I know what it looks like. J.D. Deirdre Jennette. That was a bad choice I didn't think of at first. Deirdre was named after my late grandmother. Jennette is part my name and my mother's, Annette."

"Isn't it possible people could change, Mrs. Hastings? Especially in eight or nine years time?" He pulls out LaRue's badge. She glances at him bitterly.

"If you came here upon his request to try and butter me up…" She eyes the laminated item with extreme disdain. "Take your trinket and pom-poms and go cheer lead somewhere else. I'm through speaking with you. I don't care if I never hear from him again."

"Don't worry. You get your wish." The captain answers plainly, putting the badge back in his pocket.

Jenny turns around when she hears the door open to the house. Furillo distinctly hears the steps of a child. He quickly walks out of the kitchen to see. Jenny follows him.

Deirdre calls out, "Hi, Mommy! Daddy needs help bringing the groceries in the house."

Furillo bends down to her level. Deirdre drops her backpack and stares at the stranger. Her hair color is much the same as her mother's. The eyes though tell a different story. They are a distinct green. The rest of her features resemble her mother though.

Jenny notices the interest Furillo shows in her daughter's features. She puts her hands on Deirdre's shoulders, then gives the captain a cold stare.

"Mommy? Who is that?"

"He's just leaving."

Furillo retreats to the door, then leaves.


	9. Chapter 9

An hour and a half later at the station, Renko looks at his partner. "Bobby, what do you make of that captain from Michigan Ave.?"

"It's not in our place to ask questions, Renko."

"That man was shakin' like a leaf on a tree. It was as if he caused that accident himself."

The double doors to the station open with Capt. Furillo returning. Wearily, he leans an arm against the main desk. Officer Raymond looks at him from in between the bouquets and baskets.

"Tell everyone, if they want any of the baskets or flowers they can… They can have them." Furillo takes a deep breath. Feeling like an utter failure for not being able to complete LaRue's final request, he pulls off his scarf.

Goldblume rushes through as if its an emergency. "I heard you came back." He looks at the tired captain. "Frank, you're never going to believe this. Come with me in the interrogation room.

"Can I at least put my coat back in the office?"

"Yeah. Just meet me in 'B' when you're done."

Furillo goes to his office. He finds Washington standing next to the door with his arms crossed when he's done.

"A child, wasn't it?" The detective says.

Furillo eyes the floor as his response.

"Kind of figured if it had to do with a stewardess. J.D. was always saying how lucky he was that none came forward. Who knows how many are out there?"

"Deirdre Jennette Hastings. D.J. Eight years old. Her mother doesn't want anything to do with him. She has a good husband and is stable."

Furillo shuffles away. Washington shakes his head, watching him. Goldblume puts a hand on the captain's arm. "Frank, we got a visitor. I didn't know if I should try to call you. For that matter I didn't even know where you were. Capt. Pete Mitchell came by…"

They disappear around the corner, down the hall, into the interrogation room. Several officers glance over. Belker slowly makes his way to the doorway of the squad room. Lt. Hunter does the same. Bates stays behind with Washington. Everybody stays quiet, hoping they can hear what's going on. Muffled yelling comes from the interrogation room. Two officers jump back at the sound of a loud thud. They hear Goldblume yell. Renko swallows back hard. Officer Chen's jaw stays unhinged while listening. Garcia glances up at Buchanan to see what he thinks.

Chatter ensues.

The door to the interrogation room opens. Furillo talks in a soft restrained tone. "I'm going to call…"

Goldblume trails behind. "Frank. Don't do anything rash."

"No. No. I'm not. I'm going to call the mayor and governor. Then I'll call Midtown, a judge, and the courthouse. Get all documents from Mitchell and if he doesn't cooperate, I will have him subpoenaed."

Furillo begins his trek down the hallway. Coming in through the double doors, Chief Daniels walks in. He looks at the condolence gifts which have proliferated since his previous visit. Glancing over, he sees the various officers nearby.

"You still have nothing to do?"

Lt. Hunter steps up to him with Belker following.

"Chief Daniels by all means, those two men who lost their lives today were our friends."

Daniels answers as he slowly makes an angled turn towards the squad room. "And I'm sorry about that."

Everybody else pours back into the room before the captain comes back. A couple though stay nearby.

Upon hearing the chief's voice, Furillo walks forward with the focus of a stealth fighter jet pilot. His arms flash out like switchblades, hands grabbing around the throat of one Fletcher P. Daniels. Quickly, the chief tries to back-peddle, first against the doorway frame where Garcia gets bumped. Clenching his teeth, Furillo leads him in through the squad room. "You're sorry?" He asks.

"Fra..ngh! Whas got…ten innu?" Daniels tries to say, feeling his windpipe tighten.

"You knew." Furillo stares at the hapless chief, struggling in his grasp. "Twice you came in my precinct, and you_ knew_ all this time." He feels his own erratic breath come out while seething inside.

Officers stand in shock over the sight of their captain in a position he's never shown towards the chief.

Still, Chief Daniels walks backwards with Furillo leading him past several desks.

Gritting his teeth, he continues. "You knew everything. You knew it all because you set it up! You cost two men their lives!"

Daniels takes the initiative to move in a direction that stops him in front of a desk. Furillo shoves him until the chief loses his balance, being taken over the top. Furillo's hands never let up. "You shoved his file in my face, but all along it was to cover up for your sorry hide." He breathes heavily until crying out, "HE WAS AT EVERY TUESDAY NIGHT AA MEETING FOR SEVEN YEARS! And you take out his file like some kind of a criminal!" He shoves the chief again. "All of this when it was your fault! You had them both killed! It was for your political gain! Yes it was. Don't you _dare_ deny it." Out of breath, he exerts with force. "You traded an endorsement to become Mayor. When Mitchell balked at your pathetic exhibition, you offered to do _anything_ in return. And what did you do? You expunged the records of Denver Johnson, Bryce Kincaid, Lou Jolevitch, and Ryan Gelman of two reckless endangerment cases each."

Officers stand back, gasping in horror. Bates stands covering her mouth in shock. Washington stares with jaw dropped.

"Fra…" Daniels tries to say.

"We had a nice little visit from your buddy, Capt. Pete Mitchell from Michigan Ave. I guess the guilt was more than he could stand. You though, came here three times. No conscience whatsoever." Furillo tightens his grip harder around Daniels' throat until he hears tighter gasps. Everyone else continues to stare, barely a blink or a breath. Nothing to help the chief. "Saint Francis. I'd like to see what Briscoe would think. Going to jail on homicide charges would be my pleasure. It would mean getting out from under your thumb FOREVER! Do you hear me, Fletcher?" Furillo feels the tears of rage build up. "No more. Do you understand me? NO MORE! I don't care if you promoted me to captain. I'm through with you." He clears his eyes, breathing hard. Slowly, he releases the chief. "No more." Furillo breathes heavy, wanting to cry. Only, his anger stops him. "You're no better than criminals I've put away. You're worse! You call yourself…_Chief_?"

Daniels quickly feels around his throat. Straightening his tie, he gives Furillo a long hard look as if he's been stripped. He stops to catch his breath. He pleads, sitting up. "Frank, I didn't know."

Out of the crowd of officers nearly formed into half a circle, Bates emerges from the crowd. Numbly she approaches the chief.

Daniels turns to Furillo. "You gotta believe me, I jus…"

Bates breathes back, "You son of a bitch." She delivers a walloping open-handed smack to his face. She steps back and starts crying.

Daniels slowly puts a hand to his throbbing cheek. He straightens his posture, getting off the desk. Calmly he says, "You just cost yourself a job, Sergeant Bates. I order you to turn in your badge and gun. Just like former Lt. Norman Buntz. Welcome to the unemployment line." He looks around at all of the officers who don't make a move or a sound. "You all saw! You're all witnesses! Every last one of you!"

By now, Washington offers Bates comfort. She huddles close to him, breathing hard between cries.

Furillo looks at the two of them, feeling their undeniable pain.

Daniels says, "Frank! You saw it! Worse than an insubordination charge. _Assaulting_ the Chief of Police! I want her badge."

The captain tries to console Bates, putting a hand on her back as he stares back at Daniels. In a restrained though shaky tone he quietly replies. "I want you to hand in your resignation by the end of today. I want a copy on my desk too. If you don't agree, I will personally testify in court everything you ever did wrong. You like to go through personal files. Yours will be a Pandora's box. Every racial remark. Every sexual innuendo. Harassment. The botched drug bust to cover up your rejected hurt feelings from Patsy Mayo. What you tried to do against former mayor, Ozzie Cleveland. How you were willing to sacrifice officers that were innocent. Others that you put down for personal reasons. Barnes scandal. Keenan death. Charlie Weeks. The Wade investigation. And that's just the tip of the iceberg."

Daniels slowly looks at Furillo with defeat in his eyes. He slumps back. Bates' eyes peek from Washington's arm holding her. Hunter, Goldblume, and Belker stare as the chief slumps into the chair. Hill and Renko look on with pity.


	10. Chapter 10

Sgt. Lucy Bates sits across from Dr. Gordon. "I had a choice. I could go to you or I could go see a pastor. And uh, I don't want anybody tellin' me that I sinned or that those two guys are in a better place. 'Cause, I feel selfish and I want them here." She picks out a tissue from the nearby box. "I'm not ready for that. Ya know?" Taking a hard swallow, she continues. "I was with him last night. I had a date… I was supposed to have a date with this guy who turned out to have a girlfriend already. He didn't feel anything for me. Just left me at the table alone. I felt rotten about it. Set myself up for it, as usual. I got a lousy track record with men. I feel awkward around short guys. Stuck with guys taller than me that got the personality of a stick. Anyway, he was there."

"John?"

"Yeah. J.D. I don't know where he came from but he just was at this guy's table, telling him off in front of the girlfriend. I was mortified. Then my car wouldn't start. He found me. Offered to bring me back home. He wasn't trying to flirt or anything. But uh, I uh…invited him up. Cops? Co-workers? Naw. I've been with a string of failures. Art teacher, doctor, plumber, even a commissioner. I had a partner, Joe. He was after me as soon as we were partnered. I never got the chance to do anything about it. He was killed in a store robbery four years ago. Wrong place. Wrong time." She closes her eyes. "Then there was Patrick. He was tall, dark, and handsome. I took a shot and figured, what the hell? Found out he was sleepin' with somebody in the department. Broke my heart. I knew it was wrong to even think of it. Ya know? Him being my partner.

"Sometimes it's good to distance the personal from the professional."

"That it does. Now I can see why. But uh, last night… I don't know what got into me. Maybe it was the convenience or desperation." She shakes her head trying to make sense of it all. "I made the first move. I kissed him. I kissed J.D…John LaRue." Her eyes start to water. "And uh, things just progressed from there. I'm not the type to just be with someone…that way. He was always in trouble at the station. He could charm women in an instant. He was a recovering alcoholic too. Two years ago he was offered a job in Division as a police psychiatrist. He quit the station and being a detective for that. We all missed him, but, hey. That's life. Right? I knew him since I got out of the academy. I'll never forget he looked more like an outlaw than a cop. This was around '71. He was about twenty-four and I was like twenty-one at the time. He was crazy. Got three citations for bravery. Some hairy stuff. Then he took a bullet for his rookie partner. That was in '78. His third. And uh, he wasn't the same after that. Like I said, he was a recovering alcoholic over the past seven years. So, he fell on some hard times but after being demoted for a few months, he cleaned up his act…for good. Besides the things I could find fault with? He cared about all the guys in the station. Sometimes he showed it more than anybody else. He tried to help me after I lost Joe, but I pushed him away. Just like I would with everybody. But, yeah, I kissed him." Her eyes meet the floor. "He had this nickname his partner gave him because of his reputation with the ladies."

"And that was?"

"Lover." She sniffles back, nodding her head. "I thought he was simply full of himself. Ya know, some ego thing? I was wrong." The tears start up again. Her voice drops to a mere whisper. "He was so _good_." Lucy begins to cry as she says, "Oh God. He really did live up to his name." Her body convulses as she tries to keep the tears at bay, but can't stop the overwhelming emotion aching inside. She bursts out crying.

Later at night, Lucy returns to her apartment. Upon opening the door, she sees Fabian sitting on the couch, watching TV. "Hi, Luc. Did my homework already."

She doesn't respond.

"Something wrong?"

"I uh, I can bring you to school tomorrow if you want. I've got a week off. So, whatever you want to do. Ya know. Go to the movies. Have pizza." She tries to cheer herself up. Anything."

"Luc? Are you okay?" Fabian asks with marked concern.

"Yeah. We'll talk about it in the morning. Just do me a favor, okay Fabe?" She hugs him tight. "Promise me you'll never go away." She gives him a kiss to the forehead, cradling him.

"I won't."

After letting go, she states, "Good." She smiles weakly. "I'm uh, I'm gonna call it a night."

"O..okay." He answers back unsure of what to make of Lucy's demeanor.

Lucy goes inside her room. There she finds everything the way she had left it. Crumpled covers as a reminder she wasn't alone. The previous night's clothes tossed on the floor, proving she didn't have the time to clean up. Then she picks up the blue sequined dress. The reminder of her failed date and more so her unforgettable evening. She carries the heavy garment, plopping down on the bed. Something pokes her from inside pants pocket. She pulls out the item: her extra key. Lucy then looks at the two pillows. Her eyes begin to water at the remembrance. She lies her head against one. Still clutching the key, she curls up in the fetal position, holding it under her chin. Her body again begins to convulse as she pumps out tears.

The small TV set glows with an anchor announcing. "In breaking news, Fletcher P. Daniels resigns as Chief of Police. Details are not known at this point."

"Turn it off." Frank calmly says to Joyce.

"We'll keep you…" The news anchor continues until Joyce turns off the TV.

"It certainly is a newsworthy day, today." She looks over, noticing her husband is in no mood to talk. She clicks her tongue, wondering if she should say anything. "I'm sure you're going to start planning a memorial service and have…"

"Rosa is going to take care of Ray's arrangements. There's little any of us could do since he quit the force." He answers in a nasally tone.

"LaRue?"

"His sister, Peg is handling all of his arrangements. He requested no service." Looking down, Frank takes a deep breath as he unbuttons a cuff. "I keep thinking about something."

"What's that?"

"I keep thinking of how Ray stood up to Daniels when he was offered a job similar to the one he started on his own. He thought getting out from the chief's command, he would be…free. If he had to quit the police force, then so be it. That took a lot of guts when he wanted the position to be captain and things didn't work out the way he wanted to. Instead, he made the best of that disappointment and got his own company going and something as he would put it, that his people could be proud of. In talking to him just this morning, I realized that both he and J.D. had grown quite a bit. But uh, Ray had gained courage." Frank stops to think.

"And, J.D., I always saw what I could have become. On his worst days, I prayed I would never get to that point. I remember when Neal was trying to show his support of J.D. when he was demoted to motor pool. He came in my office and said he was being punished for the same thing I had. I corrected him and said, 'Have. It never leaves you Neal.' I could admit it because that's the way I truly felt. And uh, when I fell off the wagon around our first anniversary, I told you what I had done and why.

"I remember that quite well."

"You told me to go back to the AA meetings after I tried to give you excuses."

"Mmm hmm."

"I went to that meeting and sure enough, J.D. was there. I always checked to make sure he was by asking others. He never missed a meeting in seven years. Every Tuesday." He breathes back uneasily. "When I went up to express that I hadn't had a drink in two days at the time, I saw his expression. I felt guilty and ashamed because I didn't know really why I did it. I don't know when it can happen again, but it can and probably will."

"Frank…" Joyce tries to stop him.

"No. No. Even after I had numerous talks with him and demoted him, I knew he had to focus on his own sobriety. I did worry, wondering when I would hear some of my words out of his mouth." His eyes start to water. "And uh, not once did it ever come up. He knew it and I knew it. He never judged me when he could have." Frank looks up, trying to contain his emotions. "I guess when he wanted to quit the department, a piece of me didn't want to see him go. I wanted to still learn from him. I know it should be the other way around." He puts a hand to his face. "But, I saw something in him that I don't know if I'll ever have…and that's strength. There were a few situations that could easily have made him run back to the bottle. He never did. I did, and that was simply because I was judged by others for being perfect. So, I had to show them all. He grew out of it, and knew he had everything to lose because of before. I've never had that." He undoes the other cuff. "There's a big difference between me and John LaRue."

Joyce listens more intently, helping undo the buttons of his shirt.

"J.D. made his peace a long time ago."

Joyce stops. Her eyes bob up in concern.

"I haven't." Frank says.


	11. Prequel Stand

Sgt. Lucy Bates sits at a table in a posh restaurant. All gussied up in a shiny blue dress, she orders a drink for herself. A moment she had waited for, to have a nice dinner date with an insurance adjuster she fancied. She smiles to herself and can't keep her heart from skipping a beat when she notices him from the back. Before she can call out his name, he walks toward a different table where a pretty, young, brunette awaits.

At the bar, former detective, John D. LaRue makes an order of his usual club soda. He scopes out the place to see who's around before taking a sip.

Behind him, he hears the familiar female voice.

"Clark?" Lucy calls out, standing up. Her expression is that of distress as she watches the man reach over to kiss the woman at the table. Clark sees her, then rushes over to the now heartbroken sergeant.

J.D. watches the whole scene unfold.

"Lucy, Beth needs me. We had problems. But, we got those ironed out." Clark pleads.

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"I didn't want to hurt you. You've got to believe me. Just don't make a big thing out of this."

"A big thing? Why would I do that? I only sent my son to sleep over his friend's place so that I could sit here with egg on my face." Lucy answers in a hyper-sensitive tone. She calms down and puts her hands out before doing anything rash, like pouring her drink on him. "You know what? Just go back to your tootsie and have a nice meal." She sits back down fast, trying to collect her thoughts. Profoundly embarrassed by the whole situation, she hides her face in her hands.

J.D. looks back at the couple at the table, then back at his former co-worker sitting alone and miserable.

Clark sits back with his girlfriend. As they chat and laugh, the insurance adjuster feels a tap on his shoulder. He turns around to be met with J.D. who stands with hands to hips.

"Why don't you learn how to treat women better, rather than leave 'em like cold fish?"

Clark asks in confusion, "Who are you?"

"Obviously someone who cares a great deal more that you left the lady over there without an apology."

Clark stands up. "If you care so much, then why don't you keep her company?"

J.D. gives him a smile of amusement. Lucy launches from the seat in anger as he starts to approach her.

"J.D.? What are you doing here? I can take care of myself." She points to herself for added emphasis. "What's with everybody wanting to get in my business for everything? Now my personal life? _Thanks_. Thanks a lot."

"Lucy…" He says.

Lucy swipes her jacket and leaves in a huff. Just before he can go after her, J.D.'s stopped by the waiter.

"Who's going to pay for her drink?"

"What?" J.D. answers, watching Lucy exit the door.

"Look, I need to know who's going to pay for the wine she ordered.

Disgusted and frantic, J.D. pulls out a few bills from his jacket pocket, slamming it down on the vacant table. Gritting his teeth he says, "Here! Here's the money for one lousy glass of wine!" He pushes his way past the waiter.

Outside, he goes in search of her. Then he hears someone trying to start up the ignition to no avail.

Lucy turns the key again, only to hear the motor sputter and finally stall.

J.D. hangs onto the driver side window, watching her panicked expression turn to desperation as she jogs the key in the ignition, then drop her head on the steering wheel in defeat.

"I think your battery's dead."

Lucy rolls her watery eyes. "I was supposed to get a new one. I thought, just one more trip."

"Need any help?" He asks with an innocent glance.

"I've had enough of your help for one night." She answers sarcastically.

"Come on, Lucy. I'm sorry." He carefully answers. "The guy was a creep. He got what he deserved. Nobody should treat you like that. How long have we been friends?"

"Friends? Now you're stretching it, J.D."

"Okay. How long have we known each other for?"

Wearily, Lucy answers, "Since I got out of the academy." She looks at him with a growing smirk on her face. "When did you learn how not to treat women like sex objects?"

He shrugs. "Who said you can't teach an old dog new tricks?" Then he smiles, making her smile.

In between sniffles, she giggles back. Her tone of voice jumps between wonderment and sadness as she recounts the pitiful happenings. "I get stood up and dumped. Then my battery dies. Oh God, I need a cab." She floods with tears again. "I'm having a _really_ rotten day." Wiping her eyes, she tries to laugh it off.

"Bad days? Man, your bad day is a walk in the park for me. Hell, I practically invented 'em."

Lucy giggles again. J.D. always had a way of chipping away at a bad mood, either with raunchy humor or saying something that would make people smile. He could be extremely charming or opportunistic or both. This time, he just made her feel better. The former detective who suffered from many a foolish heart and addictions.

J.D. takes a deep breath before saying, "Look, let me just bring you home. Then you can call a garage the next morning and get this baby towed." He angles with a shrug. "If anybody gives you a hard time, just tell 'em it's police business. Hey, you're a sergeant."

Lucy looks at him with hurt yet gratefulness in her eyes. Slowly, she nods in agreement. "Okay." She answers quietly with a growing smirk on her face.

He opens the door for her. As they walk away, she says, "I still want to know when you changed."

"Sometimes? I really don't know, myself."

After arriving back at her apartment, J.D. keeps his distance from Lucy. He never tried to turn on his charm for her at any time and he wasn't about to start now.

He waits for her to tell him to leave.

Lucy says with a hint of sarcasm, "That was some night." She opens the door to a darkened apartment. "I can't believe that happened. Then again, I can. My track record with guys…" She holds her jacket, looking at him. "Never mind. I'm boring you."

J.D. chooses not to say anything as it's a little uncomfortable for him to be around her in such a casual setting. His eyes move around the unfamiliar surroundings.

Lucy says with a smirk. "Okay. Thanks…for everything. You were right. The guy was a creep."

J.D. gives her a gracious smile.

Without thinking, she takes his arm and gives him a kiss.

He stares at her in disbelief.

It takes her a moment to realize what she's just done and to who. She says, "You need to do that again."

They kiss again. This time a little longer. She tosses her jacket on the couch. He looks over quickly. Lucy turns his head to face hers and kisses him a third time. She untucks his shirt.

J.D. pulls away with a heavy breath. "Wh… What are you doing?" He asks with nervousness. "I mean, you? Me?" He hedges.

Lucy grabs hold of his collar. She says in a matter-of-fact tone, "I don't want to be alone tonight."

J.D., unable to calm his galloping heartbeat says, "And, you won't."

They quickly continue to kiss. She puts her arms over his shoulders, realizing there is no height difference between them.


End file.
